#and the thing is she had the same name as someone else in choir that was student teaching my first semester so I kept thinking they were | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweetbillwriting · 7 months

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A Thousand Leaves

Part 5 - The Savior

Description: A local news reporter wants to know everything about the young man that has been found imprisoned in a basement. While she searches for answers, her relationship with the young man becomes more and more complicated.

Characters: The character Henry is inspired by several of Bill Skarsgård's characters but mostly The Kid from Castle Rock. The rest are my own original characters.

Setting: The story is set in the early 90s in nameless towns.

Warnings: 18+, abuse, religion, sexism, profanity, smut, cheating, jealousy, violence.

Notes: This chapter can be triggering.

Kevin Munro was a big man. Tall and wide and filled up the doorway when he opened the door. Irma looked at the big man in fear first, he was bearded and looked like a man in distress but when she looked at him closely she could see the sad eyes and confusement.

"Hello, my name is Irma Kiehl, I am a reporter and I was wondering if I could ask you some questions?" Said she softly and stretched out her hand.

He looked between her hand and her face then shook his head.

"I'm not interested," he said shortly and tried to close the door but Irma stood in the way, she knew most people didn't want to hurt another so by standing in the way he wouldn't close the door.

"Please, it's about Henry Deaver?"

He stopped in his movement and opened the door again. He looked at her with wide eyes and dragged his hand over the doorknob over and over.

"He lives in my town now and some things happened around him?"

She didn't mention the cage because such a thing might make the man feel sorry for him and then he wouldn't tell her as much. She said the town’s name when she didn't get a reaction and Kevin nodded slowly.

"So that's where he is…" He said and let go of the doorknob. He stepped back into the house and Irma followed him even if he hadn't invited her. The house was big and beautiful but messy and had a smell of sweat and dust.

"So you know him?" She asked and looked at the man sitting down on a white leather couch. He grunted and took out a cigarette from a pack on the coffee table.

"I don't think anyone knew that boy, some just believed they did… He was…" he interrupted himself with a deep sigh and took a drag of the cigarette. Irma waited for him to continue but he didn't so she thought she must lead him to tell her the story.

"Were you in the church when Henry came to town?"

Kevin laughed unamused and played with the string in his sweatpants.

"You mean that staged entrance? Showing off like he was some fucking celebrity?"

He shook his head to himself. "Anything to impress the right people…"

Irma felt her heartbeat, she had something here. It was obvious Kevin didn't like Henry. Maybe he had something to do with Henry's imprisonment?

"Who were the right people?" She asked and gave him a searching stare. He smirked a little and she could see how his feelings for speaking with her changed, he wanted to tell her everything.

"The young… The women. The women… He led the choir and he arranged painting classes. They had parties… They loved him. Too fucking much." He looked around at the house so Irma did the same. She could see frames with pictures of a child but also a wedding picture and a beautiful picture of a blonde woman in her late thirties. "They left me, because of him."

×××

Kevin remembered all too well when Henry barged into the church loudly. Someone else had gone in quietly, respecting God's room but instead he let it fill with his own aura. He came in, stomping in heavy boots and dragged his hand through sleazy hair. Kevin just thought that he looked like an idiot, a criminal that had learned to play the piano in prison but when he thought about whispering to his wife under his palm some well chosen words about Henry's looks he saw her look at him with big eyes. It looked like she was gazing at his biceps and the broad collarbones showing under the outstretched t-shirts collar. He couldn't believe his well groomed wife looked at such a guy like that. By coincidence he looked at his eighteen year old daughter looking at the young man the same way, she even bit her lip. His innocent daughter looked at the boy with such desire Kevin felt himself blush. He felt mortified. Saw what whores his girls had become just by seeing a guy dressed in leather?

He looked around worriedly but then realized other wives and daughters had similar expressions as his family. The husbands either sat with lowered heads or looked as upset as himself, but the boys, the younger one also looked at Deaver with big eyes but in another way. Would it be cool to be a church musician now?

A week later he watched his wife put on her best earrings with her soft cashmere sweater while he sat in front of the typewriter.

"Where are you going?" He said with furrowed brows. It was six pm on a Saturday night and she hadn't even made dinner.

"Are you coming, mom?" His daughter Eve stood in the door opening to the bedroom. She wore a short skirt and a polka dotted blouse. It was obvious the both of them were dolled up. Kevin looked at the women confused. He wondered if he had missed something, if he should also change.

"We have joined the church choir, Henry…" his wife stopped and looked away. "He has new thoughts about the choir and it sounds really interesting. Right honey?" She turned to their daughter who nodded with a small smile.

Kevin looked at them upset and clenched his jaw until he couldn't hold the anger.

"With that punk?? Do you want to be close to that one?! He probably has all sorts of diseases!" He hit his fist on the typewriter so hard he would use up his White Out to fix the writing. His wife just rolled her eyes and walked towards their daughter.

"Oh, well, I'm sure he isn't as big of an idiot as you," she said and left the bedroom. Kevin sat in shock. He couldn't understand at all that his family wanted to be close to a guy who looked like such bad news.

It started with Saturday evenings but soon his wife and daughter were away three nights a week to be a part of the activities Henry arranged. He felt alone and abandoned when he sat with his TV-dinner. He missed his wife's cooking but even when she was home she had started to get lazy. She cooked just the simple things while he missed the roasts and french stews. All her energy seemed to go to paint ugly cats and sing about The Savior.

He wasn't the only one with that problem and more and more of the men in the town sought support in each other to understand what was happening. They looked at Henry with killer stares when he came into the church in his tight denim and oversized shirts. Sometimes he let half of the buttons be open and instead of getting looks of disgust the women watched him with sex in their eyes. The men tried to talk to the priest, make him fire the Deaver boy but Priest Blom swallowed hard and just said that he couldn't. He didn't give any more explanation than that. They noticed that he showed himself less and less and it was probably because of the men's threats. They wanted Henry gone especially when the women started to divorce their men one after one. It was Henry's fault, they all knew it.

×××

Irma looked around in the living room that was dirty and smelled like old cheese. She understood what had happened to Kevin and probably many other men in the town. Henry had in some way made the women understand they could have better than husbands that just wanted dinner and a warm bed partner and they had divorced them and left the town. She looked at Kevin who looked smaller now when she saw the whole story. Henry wasn't evil, he was a handsome, creative church musician that saw the neglected women and made them search for a better life. She didn't hear anything in the story that made Henry bad but Kevin sounded like a small man.

When Irma had left, Kevin Munro sat still on the white couch. He looked at the pictures surrounding him and swallowed tears. Henry Deaver had taken away his wife and daughter. He had made them leave him. He noticed that the female reporter didn't understand. She probably thought it sounded like he had scared his family away but that wasn't it. Henry was evil and other men in the town could tell her the same thing. He wanted to tell her everything but there were parts of the story he tried to deny but now started to think about again…

×××

Before Henry he would have come home to a well cleaned house smelling of thyme and garlic and a bright smile from his beautiful wife but in the last six months that had changed. It was the young church musician that got her smiles and at home she once again made some tired looking mac and cheese. Kevin was irritated by all of it but everytime he said something about it his wife would repeat "Henry says…" like he was the new priest. He was in his twenties and couldn't know anything about life, just about motorcycles and water colors. It wasn't worth fighting with his wife because compared to Henry he was always the bad guy.

That day when he came home he was prepared on meeting a note that said Esther and Eve were at the church and food was in the oven but instead a sound made him furrow his brows while he hung up his coat. It was clearly a man breathing heavily and then a wet sound. It sounded like someone was playing with something wet in their hand.

"Hello?" Said Kevin carefully and looked into the kitchen. He could smell cigarettes and wondered if his wife had also started to smoke, Henry probably had that bad habit too.

"Hello?” He said again and looked into the dining room. He heard then that the sounds were clearly coming from the living room and it was also then he heard a female giggle. He stopped just when he was about to walk into the living room. Suddenly his blood got cold. Was it kissing sounds? Smacking lips?

His heart beated hard in his chest and to make it stop he just wanted to see what the sound came from. The couch stood around the corner and when he had walked around it he clearly saw Henry sitting with his head leaned back in the white couch and smoking a cigarette. One of his booted feet sat on top of the coffee table and between his legs sat a woman, clearly doing some kind of job for him. Kevin's first reaction was just to stare, his wife had never given him oral sex but here she was now sat between Henry's long legs slurping like it was a popsicle.

"Esther?!" He screamed. He wanted her to feel ashamed, to feel humiliated but she didn't even turn around, just made some sweet sounds and continued bobbing her head. Henry looked up at Kevin but didn't smile. Kevin met his eyes and the only thing he could see was darkness, darkness eating up the light surrounding him.

"Esther?!" He screamed again and it made her look up groggily but it wasn't his wife. It was his daughter. His beautiful eighteen year old daughter Eve. He could see how she held Henry's manhood with both hands and her lips wet with saliva. She looked up at Henry who dragged his fingers through her blonde hair and with a giggle he made her lick his tip...

"What the fuck…!! Whore!!" Kevin screamed and pulled Eve away from Henry by her hair. She screamed in pain but Kevin was like possessed and slapped her face hard.

"Your little fucking slut! My daughter doesn't do things like that! My daughter isn't a whore!" He screamed so loudly it was a wonder the neighbors didn't hear. Eve laid on the floor, holding her cheek in her hands and cried heavy tears of fear and shame. Kevin turned to Henry to give him a taste of his anger but when he turned to Henry he could feel the embarrassment and humiliation taking over. Henry still sat with his hard cock out and dragged a hand over the impressive size.

"Is it your turn now Kevin? You can lick my balls if you want to?" Henry looked at him with black eyes and smirked. Kevin stood dumbfounded. He couldn't find words and felt even worse when he actually realized he couldn't stop watching Henry play with his cock. Henry laughed and stood up and when he zipped up his jeans Kevin felt a strong emotion of shame. He had actually been disappointed when he didn't get to continue to watch Henry touch himself. His cock was the sort he had imagined Jesus Christ having; big, pink with a beautiful pattern of veins.

Henry put out his cigarette in the ashtray and then he left, without giving either Eve or Kevin a second glance. Kevin looked after him a while before remembering his abuse of his daughter. In panic he turned to where she had been laying but she wasn't there. He dragged his hands over his face and through his hair in desperation and then he started to look for her in the house but the desperation started to disappear when he didn't find her but instead found a note he had expected to find.

"Me and Eve are at the church's book club. Food is in the oven."

Kevin sat down on the couch and looked around in confusion. In front of him lay a cigarette package and there were three cigarette butts in the ashtray but otherwise there was no signs either Henry or his daughter had been there. He sat on the couch until his family came home and the girls laughed together.

"Dad, I got an A on the math test today," said Eve and smiled towards him when she came in through the door of the living room. He looked at her confused and worried but then smiled.

"That's lovely honey…"

She smiled a little but for a second Kevin thought he saw something else in her eyes and how she looked at the spot next to him where Henry had been sitting. Where she had sucked his cock like a greedy whore…

×××

Kevin still didn't know if it had happened or not and he didn't want to ask. To even try to spell out blowjob and child abuse was just too much and he would never put in his mouth and not when he actually have had thoughts to put something in his mouth, by looking at Henry. He tried to shrug it off and said to himself it had never happened but two weeks later his wife and daughter packed their bags and left him. He had a final argument with his wife over the phone where she accused him for being a worthless husband and father but also once again said, "Henry says…"

For Kevin it was obvious Henry had put this idea in their heads and he wanted to kill the man for it but everytime he saw him he instead thought about the image of him on his white couch and the shame made him hide from the young man instead. He didn't do anything about it and in turn chose to stay in his house more and more but even then he sometimes looked at the spot where Henry had been sitting and felt himself get hard.

×××

Irma didn't know if she should laugh or cry because of Kevin Munro's story. It was petty shit. Henry had probably just been a friend to his wife but he wanted someone to blame his own mistakes on. It gave Kevin motive to take Henry hostage but Irma couldn't see it. Kevin wasn't actionable enough to do such a thing, he wasn't even able to try to save his marriage.

He had given her name and numbers to other men in the town that had been through the same thing but Irma threw it in the closest garbage bin. Talking with a bunch of sexist men wouldn't lead anywhere, the only one she was interested to talk with was the priest. Father Blom. He might have another story to tell, a perspective that didn't was about hurt manly ego. He had chosen to let Henry stay even if the men threatened him. He must have seen something else.

The most logical place to search after a priest was the church so Irma drove around the town to find it. It didn't really look like a church, if she didn't know she would have believed it was some sort of garage. It was made of orange bricks, a flat roof and had just small windows on the top of the walls. Irma shook her head to herself but walked up to the ugly building. The entrance was locked. She thought a church was always open.

"Eyy!" Shouted someone behind her. It was a young man on a bike. "Haven't you heard?" He asked with a smirk.

"What?" Said Irma, a bit annoyed that the guy shouted at her.

"He has been arrested! Blom!" The man laughed and prepared himself to pedal on the bike again.

"What? For what?" Said Irma and stood frozen outside of the church.

The guy shrugged his shoulders.

"I have my guesses." He said, at the same time he pedaled away on his bike.

"Wait!" Shouted Irma and ran while the guy rode away. "Do you know Henry Deaver?"

"I did! Nice guy!" He just shouted back before disappearing around a corner.

×××

Irma took the car from the lonesome town and drove to her own one. Compared to Henry's old town, hers was much more alive and fun, even if it was so sleepy. It was a happier place, the town she left felt sad, even the trees.

She thought about the priest and Kevin Munro. The priest, had he been arrested for kidnapping Henry? In that case, why did he do it? He seemed to be on Henry's side. She shook her head to herself when she thought about Kevin. Henry had been through a lot just because he had been a good friend, an inspiring person. Irma looked out on the autumn landscape with a sigh. She missed him. She really missed him and she wanted to show him that she was on his side. Because of that she drove to her parents, hoping to see him. She walked through the door and heard her mother's soft voice. It came from the living room.

"Hello!" She shouted but she didn't get an answer. For some reason she got a bad feeling but she still dared to walk into the living room. Her mother sat on the edge of the couch while Henry laid down. She looked at them with furrowed brows when she saw that Henry wore something that looked like mittens.

"Oh so good that you are here," said her mother and stood up. She walked up to her daughter who looked at Henry. He was so pale and had a shine to his skin. He didn't look good at all.

"How is he?" She said worriedly to her mother but started to walk towards Henry. Her mom stopped her and pulled her away again.

"It's not good… It's not good at all… The wounds in his hands and feet just get bigger and bigger and he bleeds through everything. We have been at the hospital but they don't understand what it is." Bea looked worried with glassy eyes.

"What? But… is it some sort of disease?" Irma said in a panic.

"They don't know. They stitched it up and seemed to believe it would stop but it didn't. We must go back there as soon as your dad comes back from the store. But… I think it is stigmata, that's the only thing that makes sense."

Her mother had spoken about stigmata before, wounds similar to Jesus god fearing people could get, martyrs and saints. Irma instead had her own theory.

"I think it must be something the kidnapper did to him. I think the kidnapper was a priest," said Irma and nodded to herself.

"A priest? No, no. The only thing Henry had told us today is that he wants to visit a church. He can't have a priest as a kidnapper. And also, the wounds don't heal! It isn't a worldly creation!"

Irma looked at her mother first annoyed but then realized her own theory was too simple. His wounds didn't heal.

Together the women walked towards Henry again and sat by his side like two faithful disciples. Irma wished she could take one of his hands but he had bled through the bandage package again so her mother cleaned his wounds again. He laid clammy and frozen. He shuddered but looked at Irma with big beautiful eyes. Irma crawled down on the floor so she could sit just in front of him. Couldn't her father come sooner? Henry needed help, at once.

When her father Eric finally came both of the women shouted at him in panic so he came running in with his outerwear on.

"Henry is just getting worse! We must go back to the hospital!" Shouted Bea in panic.

"Why haven't you called an ambulance?" He said and looked at Henry.

"He says he wants to go with you! Please just help him!" Cried Bea. Irma gave her parents an annoyed look while they were shouting, Henry was in pain and needed help now!

Her father helped her take Henry to his car then they left while Irma and Bea took her car and drove behind them. It didn't look good at all. She felt the tears run down her face and if she had looked to her right she should have seen that her mother was also crying. Both of them were so worried they would lose kind, precious Henry and without the other one knowing they repeated the same thing in their heads, "please don't leave me. Please don't leave me."

They couldn't really say if it was for real but they both could hear Henry's voice inside of them, "I will not leave you."

#bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard #fan fiction #writing #story #bill skarsgård writing #bill skarsgård fanfiction #fiction #castle rock #the kid #halloween #henry Deaver

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no-one-fuck-a-man · 2 years

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Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Six - (Never Been Kissed) They May Be Friends. But They Will Be Fought Like Foes

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: Your friends caused someone pain, while you threaten pain upon someone else... and your friends.

Word Count: 4,934

WARNINGS: People doing shitty things, threats

(A/N): And we’re back baby!

-----

He was always over.

Finn.

Practically felt like he lived here half the time. Which only lead to many situations like this one.

"Hey, Rachel, do you have- Oh, for the love of God."

Your eyes quickly moved to be glued to her painted ceiling, after having caught your sister and her boyfriend making out in a compromising position on her bed.

"Y/N, I-"

"Nope. Don't want to hear it. Bye." Spinning on your heel, you hastily took your exit. "You owe me compensation! And for all that is good in this world, use protection!"

The intense need to bleach your eyes was strong after witnessing that for the third time that week.

All you wanted was the textbook she had borrowed.

Things had slowly been getting better between you and the couple. Starting to get back to how they were. The playful, happy atmosphere it used to be.

However, there was the fact that you still had to talk about the situation, and what had led to it. Instead of just sweeping it under the rug and ignoring it.

Just... not now.

You wanted to ignore it for as long as humanly possible. Even if you knew that would be the worst option in the long run.

Finn and Rachel were still confused, and rightfully so.

They understood that what they did hurt you. They expected you to be hurt if you ever found out the truth. They just didn't comprehend why you were so betrayed by it. To the couple, it seemed almost idiotic the way you were reacting, though they would never admit that in fear that your anger would flare, and things would only be worse.

And at the same time, you were never gonna spill the beans about why you felt the way you did.

Even if your sister had an inclination that was on the right path.

After all. Rachel still believed she was psychic.

---

"All right, guys! Let's get down to business," Mr Schuester began the Glee Club lesson, when he spotted your two missing members, Kurt and Tina, walk in, "First, let's welcome back, Noah Puckerman."

Scattered applause sounded, mainly from Santana, Brittany, and Mike, for the boy who scared Artie, causing him to flinch away in reaction.

"Puck. I hope your time in juvie has taught you a lesson or two about right and wrong."

"Are you kidding me?" Puck asked the teacher. "I ruled that place. All I did was crack skulls and lift weights all day."

"Wow, what a catch. Can't believe I ever let you go," Quinn remarked sarcastically from her seat behind Kurt as she played with a pen between her fingers.

You laughed loudly at the blonde's words, throwing your head back, arms tightening in their place folded across your chest with every chuckle.

"And now, drumroll, Finn," your teacher began his announcement, sounding like a game show host, "Because I have in my hand the other competition for Sectionals next month." The club cheered excitedly, as Rachel prepared to write the names down. "First, the acapella choir from the all-boys private school in Westerville, the Dalton Academy Warblers."

"Okay. Hold up. Like a million awesome gay jokes just popped into my head," Santana spoke, unable to keep the smile off of her face.

Mr Schuester ignored her words, instead carrying on with reading your next competition, "And the other team to beat, the hipsters, a first-year club from the Warren Township continuing education program. Now, they are a Glee Club composed entirely of elderly people getting their high school GEDs."

"Is that legal?" Rachel asked sceptically.

"I don't see why it's not." You shrugged. "They're the same as us, just in a different part of life. If we can compete with the same education as them, then so should they."

"How are we supposed to compete against a bunch of adorable old people, though?" Mercedes asked.

"Are you kidding? Brittle bones," Puck pointed out, "Give one of those old ladies a good luck pat on the rear, and it'll shatter her pelvis."

"Maybe let's not assault the elderly, huh?" You squinted over to the boy now glaring at you. "Unless you really do want to go back to juvie."

"Moving on," Mr Schuester continued, "Since it seemed to get you guys jazzed about Sectionals last year, I wanna make this week our second-annual boys versus girls tournament." More celebration from the club. But you only rolled your eyes, knowing how these things tended to go for you and Kurt. "So, split up onto two groups and figure out what songs you're gonna sing," the man finished, pointing in either direction of the choir room, before turning his back on the club.

"Okay, I have mashup ideas in my emergency mashup list," your sister called out to the girls as the group moved to their designated sides of the room. With you remaining seated, letting the others come to you.

"You have an 'emergency mashup list'?" you questioned, but before your sister could answer, the voice of your teacher sounded.

"Kurt, gonna say it again. Boys' team."

"You know, you really should start taking your student's comfort into account," you said as Kurt walked off to the boys' side, disappointed.

"Don't tell me how to teach my lesson, Y/N."

"Well, I apologise for giving you advice on how to make your students happier," you sassed.

This was gonna be a long week.

---

"Look, I'm not tossing the baby out with the bathwater."

"I've totally done that," Brittany said.

Slowly, you turned to face her, with one word on your tongue, "What?"

"We're just making an adjustment," Mr Schuester explained, "Boys, you are doing songs traditionally sung by girl groups. And girls, try some classic rock. Uh, The Who, The Stones."

"Nirvana. Queen. Guns and Roses. AC/DC."

"Exactly." He pointed at you when you listed off some bands. "The more opposite your choice, the more points you get."

"Wait, there's a point system now?"

It took you a few moments to realise that all the girls were looking your way.

"What?" Realisation hit you. "Am I doing all the work now?"

"No," Mercedes said, "But you're the one that knows the most about this kind of music. We definitely need your input."

"And let's be honest, dwarf Berry wouldn't allow anyone but her to be in charge, anyway," Santana added.

"It's not my fault if I have natural leadership skills."

"I'm sure that could be called something else," you joked, getting your sister to glare your way.

---

"I gotta talk to you," Quinn said, walking up to you in the hallway, joining you in your stride.

"What?"

"I think Sam's into Beiste."

"What?"

That got you to stop in place, the girl following suit. People bumped into you thanks to your sudden halt, but you paid them no mind, just staring down at the blonde cheerleader in front of you.

"Are you okay? What's got you thinking this?"

"Do you find her attractive?"

"What?" you repeated, for the third time, only growing more and more confused by Quinn as the seconds ticked by.

"Just answer my question. I've got to know."

"No," you chuckled your answer, "I mean, Coach Beiste is nice and all, but I tend to like girls who I could bench press, not the other way around."

"So, you don't want to sleep with her?" Quinn tried to clarify, her eyebrows rising as she tilted her head forward, pressing for an answer.

"Where the hell is all of this coming from? Of course, I don't want to sleep with her. Let's just say she's not my type, as I said before. What's going on?"

"Nothing," she said, beginning to back away down the hall, "Just wanted to make sure."

"'Make sure' about what? Quinn, what's going on?" No answer, as you watched the girl walk away, her ponytail swaying with every step. "Blondie?!" Still nothing.

With furrowed brows and an open mouth, you were left alone in the middle of the hallway, eternally confused.

You had to find out what was going on.

You didn't have a single good feeling about this.

---

It confused you. The feelings that roared within your chest.

They were reactive and uncontrollable.

You were jealous of Sam's closeness to the girl you wished to call yours, watching from afar as their relationship blossomed into something you envied.

And yet. You still liked the boy. After all, it wasn't his fault. He didn't know. Not about your feelings nor the prior fling you had with the cheerleader. Yet, you were sure if he knew, he would step back, which only made you like him more. Causing those conflicted feelings within you to rage a war against the other.

Which is why you felt guilt, along with satisfaction, when you found the blossoming pair in the midst of some relationship drama, as you were on the hunt for Sam, to walk with him to your shared class.

"I won't get mad at you if you tell me the truth-"

"Oh, that's a lie." You barged into the blonde "couple's" conversation, turning to Sam. "You ready to go to class?"

"Yeah." The boy nodded. Thankful for the escape you gave him from the girl, he hoped to one day, soon call his girlfriend.

"Y/N, please butt out," Quinn said, keeping you and the boy from leaving, "Sam, if you tell me, I-I'll be relieved."

"Sam, welcome to 'Quinn 101'. You see when she does that little half-shrug thing and looks down?" You gestured to the blonde's body as she glared daggers at you. "That means she's lying."

"I'm not lying."

"Really?" the boy challenged, "Because it looks like you're gonna be mad no matter what I say."

"Truth," you called after him when he began walking away, Quinn and yourself moving to follow.

"Do you mind leaving us alone?"

"Hey, me and Sam have a pact. The classes we share, we go there together. And anyway, I think he may need back-up with the rampage you're predictably about to go on. No man left behind!"

Sam threw you a humoured but thankful smile over his shoulder.

"You said another woman's name while you were kissing me."

"Whoa!" you exclaimed, not a care in the world that you had drawn onlookers in the filled hallway to your outcry. Ignoring them entirely, "Okay, I take it back. I'm on her side." You pointed at Quinn, shaking your head at the girl you joked with a, "I would never do that to you." Only she heard the truth lining your tone.

She dramatically rolled her eyes at you, continuing to trail after Sam.

"Look. I get it. She's in a position of power over you, which can be exciting, and you clearly like women who give you a hard time."

"You have something you wanna share there, Quinnie?" your sassed words about her "getting it" was cut off by a realisation cutting into you, "Oh my, God. Is that my type?" you asked yourself from behind the ranting Cheerio, eyes widening as it dawned on you. 'Holy shit, I think that's my type'

Sam spun on his heel in reaction to her words, arms jutted out in front of him, voice masked in hopes other students wouldn't hear, he said, "I'm not cheating on you with my football coach."

"I'm sorry, what now, please?" you paused beside the two, looking between them. "You think he's fucking Beiste? Is this why you were asking me all those weird questions yesterday?"

"What questions?"

"Oh, about-"

"That's not important!" Quinn snapped.

"Look," the boy whispered, moving closer to the blonde so the onlooking students couldn't hear the potentially detrimental conversation.

"Dude, I would watch what you say," you stated, eyes wide and unblinking as you looked at Quinn.

With her head cocked slightly to the side, silently daring the boy to keep talking.

"She has murder in her eyes. She will cut your balls off and feed them to rabid dogs, if you say the wrong thing."

Did the boy heed your warning, though?

No. He did not.

"Can we talk about this in private?"

"Why am I embarrassing you?"

"I'd be embarrassed," you commented, looking around at the many students passing you by.

"It's not what you think."

"What I think is that I'm not putting out for you, so you're getting it wherever you can, including the locker room, with the Beiste."

You had lost count of the number of times your eyes had widened in the past five minutes. Peering past the cheerleader, you spotted the coach she was just ranting about.

Bringing your hand up to the side of your head, you pointed with a jutting finger towards Beiste, muttering to Quinn as you did, "Dude, she's right there."

"What's this?" the coach asked, turning to face your little group when she heard her name spoken, only further spurring on Quinn's anger.

"This is a lovers' quarrel, and it's your fault."

"Blondie, she will snap you over her knee without breaking a sweat. I'd watch what you say," you warned her in a whisper, leaning in close to her ear.

Quinn pushed you away from her, a huff of air leaving you when her elbow connected with your stomach.

"Watch your tone with me, missy. You crap on my led, I'll cut it off."

"What did you do?" you hissed over to Sam.

"I didn't do anything."

You gestured your hand out to the two women.

"Uh, I beg to fucking differ."

"I'll leave you two," Quinn said, backing up. And strutting past Mr Schue.

"Uh, I'm here too? Quinn?" Pointing over your shoulder with your thumb, you asked Sam, "The hell is up with her, with this shit?

"Everything okay?"

"God, don't sneak up on me like that," you said, jumping back at Mr Schuester's curious words. Moving aside to let the teacher in on the conversation.

Beiste was speechless in reaction to the man's question. More confusion for you and the two adults came not a second later in the form of your friend.

"Stay away from my woman." The boy glared at her before miming that he was watching his coach.

"Mikey? What-?"

"What the hell is going on around here?"

"I was thinking the exact same thing, coach."

---

Your curiosity on the whole Beiste thing wasn't sated, as Mr Schuester had sent you away in favour of talking with Sam and Mike alone. Considering you were in the dark about the situation, just as much as he was, and he wouldn't be able to get any answers out of you.

So, here you were, hours later, sitting in the choir room with the girls as you all prepared for the competition against the boys.

"The boys beat us the last time we competed against them. And we've gotta bring the noise hard this time."

"To be fair, they didn't officially beat us," Quinn countered Mercedes' point, "We got busted for vitamin D possession before the vote."

"Blondie's right," you said, mildly distracted by the patch you were sewing onto the back of your leather jacket, "Although, we can't really take any blame for that, 'cause we didn't take any. 'Cause, she was pregnant, and I'm... smart."

"Wait. Something's definitely wrong," Santana spoke suddenly, "Why isn't Rachel talking?"

A thread covered Brittany was next to voice her remark on your sister's silence.

"Yeah, she should totally be bossing us around right now."

"The idea of the assignment was to do the opposite of what we normally do," Rachel pointed out as she tried to thread cotton through the small hole of the needle.

After the debacle of an outfit, she wore during 'Theatricality' week last year had led you into teaching your sister how to sew.

Which you regretted as soon as you started.

But she got a grasp on the basics, so you would consider that a mission successful.

"I'm just trying to stick to the lesson plan, which is proving nearly impossible since you're glueing those sequins on backwards."

Slowly, Santana turned to glare past your seat behind Quinn and Brittany's chairs and right at your sister. Watching as she pointed and yelled.

"Spies!"

Looking up, you spotted Puck and Artie.

"I wouldn't worry about them, Rach. Maybe Artie a little. Definitely not Puck."

"Lighten up," the mohican man told your sister, ignoring your dig at him, "We're here to talk to Santana and Brittany."

Santanna hummed when the boys drew close, "So, how does it feel to be a free man?"

"He misses his cellmate," you spoke dryly, "They had a torrid love affair." Gaining small chuckles from some of the girls in the room.

"All I can say is that I don't want a long-term relationship with either of you," Artie stated randomly, "Especially Brittany, since I'm not in love with her."

"Smooth man," you mumbled.

"Do you guys wanna like, go out to dinner tonight?" Brittany asked.

"Not really."

"Oh," Santana spoke sadly to Puckerman's flat-out denial.

"Tell you what. You two show up at Breadstix tomorrow night at around seven. and if we don't find hotter chicks to date tonight, we might show up."

"I'm gonna punch him," you told Quinn.

"You are totally cool."

"Awesome," Santana and Brittany said. Drawing everyone's attention to them. Looking at the two Cheerios like they were out of their minds.

"What?" you asked as the boys made their way from the room, "Are you high-? Oh my, God. They're on vitamin D again."

"We're not on vitamin D, dumbass," Santana said.

"Then what the fuck was that?!" you asked, pointing a hand to the door Artie and Puck left through.

"It was arranging a double date."

"It was insanity. Is what it was."

---

"Thanks for this, Y/N."

"What happened?" you asked the boy, with arms outstretched, only adding to your question.

You had been walking to your car after a tiring day at work, fitting in some planters and benches at a local care facility. When your phone vibrated in your pocket.

It was Artie, and he needed your help.

So, you made a detour to Breadstix on your way back home.

The sky was almost black as you walked through the restaurant parking lot towards the boy waiting for you by the entrance.

"Puck and I took Santana and Brittany out on a double date."

"Yeah, I gathered from that act a few days ago in the choir room. But, why'd they leave you here?" you asked, beginning to push him towards your parked car.

"Puck wanted to 'dine and dash', but I wussed out and paid for the meal."

"So, they left you here because you have a soul?" you clarified, before sighing, "You did the right thing, Artie. There's a reason why Puckerman isn't really liked around town. You keep doing the right thing, wheels."

"Thanks, Y/N."

"Anything, buddy. Anytime."

---

Applause and cheers filled the room after your performance with the girls.

"Very, very, impressive," Mr Schuester complimented, "But Y/N, I wish you were more involved in the performance."

"What you on about? I was playing the guitar the whole time," you replied, "That guitar solo wasn't easy, you know."

"I think I, along with the guys, would have liked to see you up there on the platform with the girls."

"Listen, Mr Schue, This is the best you're gonna get. Considering this makes me uncomfortable, and you know that."

"Well, anyway," the teacher moved on awkwardly, "What was it that made you guys choose these songs?"

"Well-"

You cut your sister off as you place the guitar back on its stand, stepping towards the girls, "Me. It was all me."

Before anything else could be said, Becky Jackson entered the room, running to the Spanish teacher with a note in her hand.

Brittany moved from under your arm to go speak with Santana, leaving you with the other blonde you had thrown your arm over.

"You look really cute like this, you know?" you complimented her.

"Do I?"

A few nods. "Yeah."

"You look pretty good yourself."

"If my bike was ready, I'd offer to take you for a ride on it. We are both dressed for it."

"You won't catch me dead on one of those things." Quinn pointed at you.

"Still too scared?"

"Too dangerous."

"You know I'd be safe." You smiled. "Especially if you were on the back."

"You're not gonna convince me otherwise," she said with a laugh, shaking her head.

While you and the blonde were talking, making your way out of the room, neither of you noticed the look Kurt and Mercedes shared at your closeness.

The next time you were in the choir room wasn't as pleasant.

"Well, I genuinely hope you guys are happy, because Coach Beiste has quit."

"Hold up. What?"

"Wait. What?" Finn asked, just as confused as you, "That's terrible."

"Yeah, that's not what we want," Sam added.

"That's the opposite of what we want," Artie was next to speak from beside you, "The football team was actually winning."

"Well, you better put your heads together and find a way to get her back, fast, because I am actually ashamed of you," Mr Schuester's tone turned angered now, "You really hurt someone who is a great addition to this school."

"Whoa." You held up your hand. "I don't appreciate somebody being ashamed of me and telling me that I hurt someone when I didn't even do anything, to begin with."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. What exactly did we do?" your sister asked, not appreciating the teacher's words nor tone either.

"No, no. It's us," her boyfriend cleared it up for everyone who was confused. "The boys."

"And Tina," Mike added.

"Tina?" you asked, confused, looking behind you at the girl.

Finn started to explain what was going on, his words and movements uncomfortable during his admittance.

"We sort of figured out that picturing the Beiste while making out was even better than a cold shower." Then he rushed to save himself from embarrassment, in front of his girlfriend, "Uh- I mean, I-I don't... ever."

In a cough, you said, "The mail." Gaining a glare from the tall boy.

Then his words registered with you.

"Wait. You do what?! Do you know how insulting that is to someone? And then you expect them not to feel bad about it when they find out? The hell is wrong with you guys?"

"Can I just say, this is what happens when people don't put out," Santana said, "If everyone put out, we would have a winning football team."

"Shut up, San. People can have sex if they do or don't want to."

"Do you have this problem that the guys do?" she asked you.

'We have sex enough for you to full-well know that answer'

"I really don't want to hear this," Rachel protested, from her seat.

Smirking at your sister's distress, you answered the question, "No. Strangely enough, I can control myself. And even if I did, it wouldn't matter because I can do it multiple times. And if I had to "cool down" I would be normal and think of my grandma, or dead puppies, or something."

Mr Schuester had grown uncomfortable with your words, but before he could speak, Principal Figgins entered the choir room.

"William. I need to see you and Noah Puckerman in my office, please."

"Oh, God, Puckerman's going back to juvie. There is a God!"

"Shut up, Berry," the boy grumbled as he walked down the platforms.

"Send me a postcard!"

---

You were calm.

Everything was fine.

Seriously. Everything was truly fine.

That was until you spotted Karofsky being his douchebag of a self, pushing a kid up against the metal fence lining the outdoor staircase, as Kurt watched on, on the way to your next class.

Putting two and two together, you quickly sprung into action and rushed down the stairs to help the boys out.

"You have to stop this!" Kurt yelled, trying to push Karofsky off of the random boy.

The bully was surprised when suddenly he was the one pressed up against the chain wall, with you bearing down on him.

Unknown to the blonde onlooker, who followed behind you on the stairs.

"You leave them alone, you hear me?" you told him, pointing in his face, "You leave Kurt and-" A glance up and down at the stranger wearing a black and red school uniform. "This kid, I don't know alone, or else I'll pull a Sue Sylvester and push you down these stairs."

"No, you won't," a voice suddenly sounded behind you.

A voice you knew.

A hand wrapped into the worn denim of the jacket you wore, using that to tug you away from the boy you had pressed up against the makeshift wall and down the stairs, you had just threatened to push him down.

Peering over your shoulder, you spotted Quinn Fabray.

"What are you doing?" you almost sneered, pulling away from the hold she had on you, straightening out your jacket.

Yet she still pulled you along, directing you to walk away from where you could potentially do some serious damage to the boy.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I was stopping Karofsky from bullying Kurt and some random kid."

"By threatening to push him down the stairs?" she came closer to hiss at you.

"Did you really think I was gonna do that?"

"No, of course not. But he doesn't know that, does he?"

"So, what? Is this you trying to tell me that you care if he's scared or not?"

"No. I don't care about Karofsky." Quinn rolled her eyes at you. "I care about you. I care about you going to juvie because he tells someone about it."

Things were silent for a few seconds until you finally spoke, "I wouldn't go to juvie for that."

With a sigh, the blonde moved to stop in front of you, with a hand pressed against your abdomen.

"Y/N, contrary to what you may sometimes believe, I do care about you. You can't go around threatening people. I don't want you to get into trouble. You're worth so much more than that."

You scoffed in reaction to her words. Shaking your head lightly and turning your face away from her. Not believing that she thought of you that way, thanks to your complicated relationship with her.

"Hey." A hand gripped the sides of your jaw, pulling you back to face her, it dropping to your chest as she continued, "You believe in me. That I can obtain my dreams. You told me so yourself. I believe the same for you. So, don't let a jerk like Karofsky mess up your future. Because he's not worth it. Okay?"

Quinn waited for you to say something.

However, you only gave her a relinquished nod of agreement. Unable to meet her eyes as you did.

"Good," she stated with a smile. Hand on your chest, moving to wrap around the collar of your jacket, "Now, come on. Let's get to class."

"God. What is it with you and dragging me around, Fabray?"

---

"I don't get it. It's boys against the girls, but... what does the winner get?"

"Money," you joked from where you stood, leaning against the stacks of books beside your teacher.

"Actually," Finn clarified, "We were hoping for your forgiveness."

"The girls and I don't need that." A shrug. "Except for Tina. You should really be up there with them," you called over to the girl.

Sam cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to the tuxed boys

"Yeah. We just wanted to apologise for hurting your feelings."

"Coach Beiste, we think you're awesome," Finn told the woman, "And even though you're all hard and tough on the outside, it doesn't mean you're not the opposite on the inside."

"Like a chocolate turtle," Sam said.

"Totally. You're nougatty. We totally get that now."

"Stop comparing her to food, dude," you told Finn. Mr Schue nodded beside you, "Plus, you're making me hungry."

"You're like a mashup," the boy said.

"Why don't you guys just get to the song?" the Spanish teacher prompted before the dopey boy could compare the coach to anything else.

"Totally." Artie's eyes were screaming his thanks to the man. "This mashup is dedicated to you, coach. hard and badass on one hand and soft and girlie on the other."

"Yeah, and we hope it makes you smile, 'cause when you smile, you're pretty, and it lights up the room," Puckerman added, "Seriously."

"Also, if you don't like it and don't accept our apology, we're afraid that Y/N may kick our asses," Arte continued, turning all of the attention to you as you cracked your knuckles in preparation, glare upon your face at the boys- And Tina.

"Music, guys!" Mr Schue rushed.

The performance ended with panting boys and cheers.

The football coach nodded her head with a big smile across her face.

"It was really good. I liked it." Beiste rose to her feet. "Thank you."

Artie waved the boys and their coach into a group hug, gaining another round of applause from the group.

"So, are we forgiven?" Sam asked once they pulled away.

"You're forgiven."

"So, no punching?"

Beiste turned you, shaking her head. "No punching.

"Damn it," you hissed to yourself, moving your arm in a 'rats!' motion.

"You really wanted to beat up your friends that badly?" Quinn asked with a smile.

"Sometimes they annoy me!"

-----

Prev Part | Next Part

#quinn fabray x reader #quinn fabray imagine #quinn fabray #original work #original fanfiction

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lilacthebitch · 9 months

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THIS IS NOT RELATED TO DISCOVERTALE! Nor id any other vents/rants-

Hi! Lilac here.

So, one of my friends was in an abusive relationship, who's name i will never hear the same again. He abused her mentally and physically, he gaslight, hit, bit, slapped, and demanded things from her, like to get his food, but he was in the kitchen for example.

She left his sorry ass behind about 3-4 months ago, and the only she'd have to worry about him during band class.

Now, she only sees him during band

And she sits.

Right

Behind

Him.

And is not allowed to move.

Being the good girl she is, she didn't move on her own without teachers permission, (like we all would, DONT LIE.) And now is in direct contact with him.

Anyway, today's events

-school

-home

-paint wars

-2nd home(her house)

Then, while there, one of her mom's friends said that her daughter had a named signed on a piece of paper. And my friend's name was on it too.

My friend had called her mom early in the school day due to a panic attack, she has those more often than not. And she said she had it beacuse she had been called down for questioning, and to be told not to speak, or talk about this boy again, or she would be in trouble.

I'm sorry, WHAT?

One, the other person's name on the paper, was not related to this at all, and two, you just did something unconstitutional. Taking away free speech.

Oh, and to make this worse?

The dean, LIED.

Saying he called her down to calm her from a panic attack-which was true, but left out MORE THAN HALF OF THE DETAILS. Not even mentioning the questioning, or anything else.

This dude is a football player, someone at a high importance, my friend is a band + choir kid. Probably not that important.

They are helping her, but not dealing with the source of the God damn fucking problem. They never gave a restraining order, never punished HIM, and they lied to my friend's mom's face.

And they're supposed to be watching him.

I can't BELIVE, these people in so much power are abusing it, and thinking that parents will fit their teen into the stereotype, and punish thier child for telling the truth...

..Valleyview, Jonesboro.

Valley view is one of the most popular schools, and if the dean has done this to all of the people who have a abusive relationship with someone of higher importance. Then we found the problem.

If this continues, I will update.

#vent #rant post #You can rant/vent in comments #valley view #Why do people in places of power suck ass #Btw #My friend's name is Sydney #Boy's name is Austin

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absensia-archived · 7 months

Text

BY ITS TRUEST DEFINITION, "CORNERED" WAS THE WRONG WORD FOR THE DILEMMA THE DETECTIVE AND HIS BLONDE FOUND THEMSELVES IN. IT IMPLIED A CERTAIN HELPLESSNESS THAT WOULD BE GRAVELY MISPLACED IF EVER APPLIED TO EITHER OF THE BODIES PRESENT. BUT WHAT'S THE BETTER WORD? TRAPPED: CERTAINLY NOT. NO ONE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR HAD FELT IT NECESSARY TO LAY A TRAP. CAPTURED: ABSURD. NO ONE EVEN KNEW THEY WERE THERE, IN THE DARK. CAUGHT? NO. NOT YET ANYWAYS.

Cozy. Yes, that was more like it. A smirk played its way across Charlotte's lips, the shape of her mouth seemingly cut in two ( mismatched, like a pencil dropped into a half - full glass of water, ) by a sliver of light coming in through a slit in the old linen closet door. No one should've been in the house and it had been empty when they slipped through an open window like smoke, like sunlight. More importantly, no one should've come home. This house sat lonely under a dead man's name. It has for years, and for years, no one had come to examine it, resurrect it, or speak to it. That is, until now.

@valereius / A HEART TO HEART

When a dead man's cold case of a murder suddenly became of interest again, his house would naturally become the first witness, approached for questioning. The good thing about a house was that it couldn't run. Burn down? Sure. Decay until it was so structurally unsound that it couldn't abide a LIVING CREATURE in it without moaning and threatening collapse? A common fate! But at least it wouldn't run. What Charlotte didn't see coming and yet, wasn't surprised to see happen, was the arrival of not one, not two, but three of the local gangs at the doors of the very same house for what sounded like negotiations over land and resource re - distribution. For years, no one had looked at this house that sat on the very edge of the city without a single standing neighbour. Not even those damn house - flipper sorts. Until today. Well, well, from lonely to all - too - popular.

Anyone else would be looking for someone to blame as unlucky, but Charlotte didn't believe in burdening one person with all the bad luck. It was never just one person, or just one thing. Misfortune was, more often than not, a group effort. So, she was more than willing to take on some of the blame. After all, it wasn't as if the detective was standing alone in this tiny, dusty closet. Even if there was only room for one.

Cozy, indeed. There hadn't been enough time to escape out the back door unnoticed. Three sets of enforcers, footmen, runners, and low - level yes - men had arrived near simultaneously, flooding the house ( not - so ) slowly but surely. A perimeter had been quickly ( impressively ) set and Charlotte could thought how lucky they were that David had parked his car several blocks away. The meeting was in the dining room and was approaching its first hour of minutes. The shadows of the restless patrol would go by and sink them into total darkness. As another passed, the floor seemed to tilt and Charlotte tightened the grip she had on David's jacket, leveraging her balance for a moment. The guard moved away, the house stifled a groan, and the chatter continued to flow without a hitch downstairs. This close, she could do little more than roll her gaze upward and peer at Loki through her lashes and a heavy lock of her hair that hung down over one eye.

A single peel of laughter rose to an awkward crescendo only to die off alone, and Charlotte's smirk split into a grin. He had to have known: if she could've laughed, she would've. But her shoulders did not even shake and the dust that surrounded them slept undisturbed. Nibbling on her lower lip, Charlotte waited for the choir of voices to begin weaving, overlapping, melding once more before adding her own hushed voice to the soundscape. " Hey, " she begun, so gently her words could've been sounding from a dream within a dream. " What d'you want for your birthday? "

#valereius #in.#the woman has her priorities straight what can i tell ya #sure hope no one calls david rn

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my-makeshift-masquerade · 2 years

Text

FNAF Headcanons: The Original 5 Missing Children

Gabriel

Gabe died at age 12, making him the oldest of the original five children. He was the second one of them to be killed, and was stuffed into the suit of Freddy Fazbear.

He was very heavy-set and muscular, and sang in his church’s choir. Despite his imposing stature, he wasn’t one to push his weight around.

One could often find him giving the smaller children rides on his shoulders/back, or organizing games for everyone to play. He’d also help younger kids win tickets.

He was raised to value fairness above all else. He regularly stood up to the local bullies, encouraging them to pick on someone their own size.

Gabriel was the second one to die because he rushed to protect the other kids when Susie was killed. He feels guilty he couldn’t save anyone that day.

Jeremy

Jeremy died at age 10, making him tied for the second oldest of the five children. He was the third one to die, and was stuffed into the suit of Bonnie the Bunny.

He had his birthday at Freddy’s every single year, as his parents were rich enough to buy out the restaurant for a day. Every kid in town got invited.

Despite his privilege, the boy was very generous, even offering to share his birthday party each year with another, poorer child who was born on the same day.

Being average and not particularly sporty, he took to music and theatric arts in school. This got him picked on for “acting like a girl” a lot, but he didn’t mind.

Jeremy actually fought to protect everyone else, but is ashamed he failed to do so. He tries to focus on the happiness he had on his last day alive, but it’s hard.

Fritz

Fritz died at age 9 making him the third oldest of the original missing children. He was the fourth one to be killed, and his body was stuffed in the suit of Foxy.

Tall and athletic, he was the fastest kid in school, and tried to hide that he was a huge dork about all things nautical. It was pretty obvious to everyone who met him he was obsessed with pirates, though.

His pops was deployed in the navy and he wanted to be a sailor like him when he grew up. Poor lad had never even seen the sea. It was the one thing he wanted to do before he died.

He was an odd combination of introverted and devious. Being so easily forgotten about was what made him great at stealing tokens from other kids or cheating the machines to give him jackpots.

Fritz tried to run away from the killer, but was trapped by a locked door. He met his demise swiftly and feels awful for being such a coward when faced with true danger.

Susie

Susie died at age 7, making her the youngest of the original missing children. She was the first one to be killed, and was stuffed into the suit of Chica the Chicken.

This bubbly young lady enjoyed all things colorful and sweet. What she loved most of all was her puppy, who she named Sprinkles. He was unfortunately hit by a car…

After this traumatic event, she developed pica. She began eating various things like crayons, chalk, modeling clay, and even her dog’s old food. Her parents had to lock the cabinets in their house.

She was lured along with the other four children, when the yellow rabbit told her that he had found Sprinkles. This made her look up from Fruity Maze for the first time all day.

Susie was looking for her furry friend all over the back room, when the killer took the opportunity to strike. Her ghost watched in vain as the others met their demise one by one.

Cassidy

Cassidy died at age 10, making her tied as the second oldest of the original five children. She was the last one to die and was stuffed into the suit of Golden Freddy.

She’s a gutsy tomboy who struggles with anger issues and impulsivity. When she ended up getting into trouble and losing friends due to this, she grew spiteful.

She shared a birthday with one of the richest kids in town. Though the boy happily shared his position as birthday child she often felt resentful for having to share to begin with.

Her grandpa used to take her out fishing to teach her about patience and letting go. The girl would never admit to the old man she enjoyed those afternoons.

Cassidy put up a fight until the end, wanting to give this killer five times the pain he caused to all of them. That vengefulness never died with her body.

#fnaf headcanons #bound to imagination #fnaf #fnaf missing children #into the breach

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envihellbender · 1 year

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GD girls’ children units ? :o

Fire Emblem: Three Houses - Next Generation

Lysithea

Name: Cora

Class: Dark Flier

Cora has the same form of albinism as her mother, causing her to inherit her white hair and pale, freckled skin. Unlike Lysithea however Cora had pale blue eyes with sore light pink eyelids. She had chin length hair that is thin and a little shaggy with a fringe which she keeps in a hair clip so it’s out of her eyes. She was an inch or so taller than her mother, a little more muscular and a little plump - particularly in her cheeks, thighs, and belly. She isn’t particularly fascinated with her appearance, preferring to focus on practical clothing, hairstyles, and the like.

Lysithea has a strange relationship with her daughter, she never expected to live long enough to have one or to see her grow up. As such she can be quite over-protective of Cora, and paranoid of who the family associated with through fear of Those Who Slither in the Dark getting to her daughter. She is extremely open and blunt with Cora about why however, which results in a teenager who whilst she resents her mother’s actions is fairly understanding about them. Their relationship goes through a lot of hardship, but they never lie to each other about anything serious. As a result, Cora got taught magic at a young age, Lysithea would allow her to watch her perform combat spells and dark magic.

She enjoys taking care of the horses, and is greatly attached to her own Pegasus. She has inherited her mother’s sweet tooth, and love of reading. She does not however have her mother’s work ethic, she finds it easy to devote herself to things she’s interested in such as animal care and magic, but anything else she struggles to focus on.

Marianne

Name: Bichette

Class: Dark Mage / Dark Bishop

Bichette has the same brown eyes as Marianne, but her hair is her the colour of straw, and falls in dishevelled waves to her shoulders with a fringe that she often blows out of her eyes. She’s around the same height and build, with the same soft features but contrastingly to her mother she is extremely smiley. She has two dimples, and has difficult controlling the volume of her voice. She considers herself a member of the church but finds actually attending and studying it extremely boring - although she has enjoyed the choir since she was a small child. She has the same strong connection to animals as her mother does, helping her with the animal sanctuary that Marianne runs.

Marianne made a point to raise her daughter without the fear and self hatred Marianne was taught to have herself as a child. She refused to allow anyone to call her daughter a monster or imply otherwise, but was still completely honest with her about the stigma and history of her crest. As a result unlike her mother, Bichette has embraced her crest. It may be partially as a defence mechanism but she enjoys seeing people widen their eyes in terror as they try and figure out if she really can turn into a monster or not. She has a very dark sense of humour so it often is, but occasionally it’s a genuine threat (more to scare someone than it’s actually done with intent.) She finds monsters just as fascinating as any animal, and when she was little fantasised about taming and riding one. Also contrastingly to her mother she finds healing magic to be quite a dull field of study, she appreciates it’s usefulness but she prefers dark and combat magic as well as researching poisons and monsters.

Bichette likes finding stray cats and dogs to bring home to her mothers sanctuary, foraging for herbs/fruits, walking barefoot, tea, sweets, and myths and legends. She dislikes spicy food, coffee, the cold, meat, fishing, hunting, and swimming.

Hilda

Name: Amory

Class: Valkyrie

Amory is quite a bit taller than Hilda, whose head rests quite comfortably below their shoulders. They have soft brown eyes, almost the colour of toffee, and the same pink hair as their mother. Only in their case they prefer keeping their hair short, their curls almost impossible to maintain. They have broad shoulders and toned arms, with a slight belly and chubby thighs. They are generally a kind and positive person, they can be a bit self centred, and they can very much lack focus. However they aren’t lazy exactly, they are extremely hyperactive and fill their day with a lot of fun, high energy things… they are just prone to procrastination and not focusing on their responsibilities.

Amory enjoys a lot of high risk activities suck as flying, diving, battle, rock climbing, and the like. In some ways they are addicted to the rush and excitement such things bring, they are also extremely charming and have the beautiful softness their mother has… but they are terrified of intimacy and flirtation and have next to no interest in sex or romance. When meeting someone new, or an existing friend they are confident and charismatic. As soon as the situation becomes flirtatious however, they immediately shut down and panic. That is if they realise that has happened, often they are quite oblivious to that sort of thing. They are fully aware that their mother has a reputation, and it’s not one they wish to discuss. They quite often hear about how their mother was a “tease”, proven by the fact that she ended up marrying another woman. Amory often felt themselves having to tighten their jaw shut as their fists shook in anger at hearing their two mothers being described in that way.

Amory likes swimming, climbing trees, being as high up as possible, finding amazing views, finding hidden caves and secrets, spicy food, horse riding, animals, and drawing. They dislike cooking, chores, sweets, romantic novels, romance in general, people gossiping about their loved ones, and the cold.

Leonie

Name: Geralt

Class: Archer / Sniper

Geralt is a lanky, young man with shaggy ginger hair and amber eyes. He has a huge appetite, and enjoys collecting interesting things he finds on hikes such as rocks, sticks, leaves, bones, and such. Ever since Geralt was born Leonie was desperate to raise him just how she thought his namesake Jeralt would. She dreamed of her son being a mercenary just like her and her hero. When Geralt was more interested in hiding, climbing, sneaking around, eavesdropping, gossiping, and archery rather than mercenary work. Something which Leonie used to feel frustrated by even when her son was a sharpshooter by his teenage years. Geralt used to wake up early on days when Leonie said he was to go out on a job with her just to sneak out and spend the day hanging around the town to avoid it.

Geralt is generally quite a strange guy. He has a habit of lurking around, listening to conversations that do not concern him (rarely getting caught), watching people, showing up behind someone with them realising and speaking suddenly causing them to become spooked, and more. He has a small mouse skull on a chain around his neck, and often in dark clothes with his hood up. His clothing was often heavily patched growing up. It wasn’t that his mother couldn’t afford new clothes, it was that she refused to replace anything until it was absolutely necessary. As a result he tended to be quite irresponsible with money, seeing it as something he never got to enjoy and hates having what he spends be controlled.

Geralt likes collecting intel, gossiping, geology, trees, stars, fairytales, history, collecting things, and climbing trees. He dislikes being the centre of attention, being controlled, being put under pressure, and has a fear of enclosed spaces.

#envi writes #fe3h #fe3h next generation #lysithea von ordelia #marianne von edmund #hilda von goneril #leonie pinelli

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neverwritewhatyouknow · 2 years

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Hi! This isn’t a hate message I promise!

I was wondering if you could expand more on how Rachel is or isn’t Jewish? I’m Catholic so I don’t really think I fully understand, but I want to learn more because I think it’s wrong that they didn’t cast a Jewish actress if they could’ve.

Hey!! Of course I can!

There’s a few things so I’ll try to keep it all quick and easy to understand.

1. In traditional Judaism (meaning all non-reform branches) you are only Jewish if your mom is. It passes on. If your mom isn’t Jewish you’re seen as a non-Jew. There’s no “half-Jewish” identity, it’s all or nothing. You would have to basically convert into Judaism the same as anyone else to be seen as Jewish.

2. In Reform Judaism (a more modern/progressive branch) you can be considered Jewish if your dad is Jewish and not your mom, BUT you have to be raised exclusively Jewish and not as any other religion, and also technically you have to through all the rites of Judaism (naming, bris if you’re a boy, torah study, Bar/Bat Mitzvah, etc). Only then would you be seen as Jewish in the eyes of the reform community. Note: According to the guidelines, you have to be raised exclusively Jewish and do all this stuff, you can’t go from a full day praying at church to your Bar/Bat Mitzvah. There’s no half-Jew here either, in a very technical sense, if you’re not fully Jewish you’re just… not Jewish. You can be half something else, but being Jewish is seen as something that is done in full. In my experience, Reform synagogues are good with interfaith families though, they are welcomed and not treated any differently and as long as the kids are brought up in the temple, it’s all kosher (Jew joke).

Based on what I’ve been told and what I’ve been able to find, any “Jewish heritage” (using words that were apparently said by Rachel, told to me by the person she said them to) would be coming from her dad’s side. This would instantly remove her from being recognized as Jewish from any branch other than Reform.

Then, Rachel was raised as an active member of the baptist church (her mom said so in an interview & someone who knows Rachel told me via DM). Her mom also started volunteering at the church when Rachel was a little kid, meaning that Rachel likely tagged along or was sent to Sunday School/Youth Group. Her mom is really devoted to her religion, so she likely had Rachel attending services and doing the whole Christian thing every week (every day even) from a young age. Someone in my DMs said their friend went to church with Rachel, so they know her family was involved in attending services frequently. Based on all this, it’s clear there was no exclusivity to Judaism or even just the Jewish ethnicity. Therefore she wouldn’t count as Jewish in the eyes of Reform synagogues either. Even with the rumored Jewish heritage Rachel may have, religiously and ethnically she’s non-Jewish.

Jews don’t have to be religious at all. Many Jews don’t practice Judaism. The difference is that the Jews who aren’t religious are still Jews due to their mothers or being raised exclusively Jewish and (or at least) no other religion. For example, me and all of my friends from Hebrew school (some from interfaith families) were raised fully Jewish, the closest we got to a church service was when there was an interfaith service where every religion in town met up together and the choirs would all sing. Now none of us practice Judaism, but are all still 100% Jewish in the eyes of traditional Judaism and Reform. Exclusivity doesn’t mean you couldn’t go to Christmas parties or eat Easter candy, or even attend a church service with a friend, it means that you weren’t majorly raised and involved in another religion at a religious level.

There’s obviously gray areas depending on certain situations, but in Rachel’s case it’s pretty cut and dry. She’s not Jewish.

I hope that answered your question. Let me know if there’s anything else!!

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no-vamos · 7 months

Text

Today’s updates consist offfffff

So i told another one of my friends who my crush was today

and istg her reaction was so funny

bc it started out with me needing to freak out to someone else besides my bsf and her bf so i turned to like my clone lmao (we have the same legal name and have basically the same hobbies and interests and both have brown hair we’re like the same person lmao)

So i was like (actually I don’t remember how I started the conversation but I think I told her why I had been in the athletics hallway before play practice)

bc i was talking to my crush then

and she was like wait who and i was like uhhhhh bc like i like him but also i know he’s not everyone’s type and is also kinda a developed taste lmao

and she was like you don’t have to tell me and i was like no it’s fine guess

and she was like ok so he’s on the xc team, is he in your grade? and i was like no

AND THEN SHE GUESSED HIM ON THE FIRST GUESS and i was like omg am i really that obvious and she was like no not really he’s the only junior i remember being on the xc team and like you wouldn’t like your bsf’s bf bc that’d be weird and i was like yeah duh

and then i think she either mentioned how i had said he was in my youth group or something

and then i was explaining how yesterday when i stopped to talk to her in front of the chemistry room prior to physics i was really talking to her then and there so i could see if he would be watching me (which he was) and she was like OH i remember that, i had entered the room and was really scared he hated me or something bc he had been looking out the door (with his deadpan face)

that was another thing we talked about

bc she was like i don’t know much about him except that when he talks to people his face is completely neutral

but when he’s talking to me he’s like half smiling usually

and then she was like wait is that why he was always looking towards us during choir

bc i also explained how that was another thing that happened between us

and i was like YEA and she was like THAT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE NOW

and then she was like now i’m gonna watch when he’s looking at you for like statistics

bc we also talked about how sometimes you make eye contact with someone and it seems like they had been looking at you a long time and i’m like omg that happens with us

and then i told her how we’re getting baptized around the same time (basically together i think) and she was like omg that’s so cute

and all of this was prompted bc i got an email from my youth pastor about the sermon i’m gonna help her with in december and like the meeting times for going over that scripture and i had vaguely remembered her saying one or two other people were gonna help with this as well

AND GUESS WHO ELSE WAS TAGGED IN THE EMAIL??????

HIMMMMAEOIFHOISHFOIH and i was like half freaking out about it bc like wtf

and my bsf was like girl what calm down

so like my bsf is my sanity and is like telling me not to obsess over this guy

and my clone is like girlie you guys are my otp now i ship so hard

and it was so funny bc she and i had this conversation in like five minutes and i was also explaining how we’re “talking” but not really “talking” bc nothing has actually been said but isn’t that basically what talking is

and she was like wait are you guys texting and i’m like no i’m too awkward for that

but we had a two hour conversation on saturday

of which he could’ve left but he didn’t so that has to mean something right

and she’s like omg right

and i also explained how we’re like mirror images of each other in terms of like, he wants to be an architect and i want to do math and art but not architecture

and then i was also explaining how like it also has to mean something that he thinks i’m at least somewhat smart

bc yea it doesn’t matter what he thinks but he’s also kind of like, doesn’t associate himself with people he thinks are less intelligent

but i’m smart af and like we’ve had conversations before and stuff and like he’s expressed some sort of like respect for me

and i was telling her about church retreat and that one time i was expressing how i didn’t like a certain teachers classes and he was like well most people who don’t like his courses don’t like the workload and i was like well that makes me sound lazy and he’s like well you’re an exception and she was like omg the backtrack like he cares and i was like rightttt?????

she’s feeding the delusion so much and like now it’s all i can think about

I also had made the excuse to go hang out in the athletics hallway bc i was trying to find my bsf and forgot where she was (she was up the street at a voice lesson) and her brother was in the hallway too as well as my crush and less important bc he’s still technically my friend but also my ex

ANYWAYS point being i talked with them a while about things mostly bc i wanted to be where my crush was and he just

observes

so much

i desperately want to know what he thinks of me bc he just watches me so… intensely? you know what i mean

it’s also kinda funny bc, for reasons being we share the same name and i currently am borderline obsessed with this guy, i would have the most massive crush on my clone like

she’s gorgeous and so nice but also a really great friend so i appreciate her in that aspect

but also the fact that she is gonna keep an eye out for our reactions a bit more

and honestly her saying that we’re her otp makes me want to make a ship name for us

but the moment i do that things usually spiral out of control

so i’m gonna avoid that by making one and then not telling anyone

oh another update and then i’ll stop

my bsf’s bf is like seriously judging me in ap bio rn bc we’re studying a process that shares the same name as the guy i like so i keep making half jokes about that and then he gives me his disgruntled judging cat glare and i’m like whattttt i’m doing serious bio things

not making vague references to the guy i like that you’re also friends with bc you run xc together

but i had made a joke about being the athletics hallway to do bio review lmao

also i’m like so nervous about making eye contact with him bc he’s just so intense

but also super endearing he’s like such a guy so awkward

#crush thoughts

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dishtothedeath · 11 months

Text

all the choirs in my head say, no || trial 3.2 || yukari || re: bonbon, jun'ya / attn: morgan, bonbon

Yukari could feel the different lines in her head running over each other as they tried to map out a clear cut conclusion. It was easier to think when she didn’t have to pay attention to the other voices in room waiting for a hitch or a slip to make the picture clearer. At this point, almost anything was a possibility and that made her doubt what she really knew.

When Bonbon speaks, she catches something. The last line had her turn her attention to him. Fergus is the first to speak and defend himself which is good! It helped calm her since her hands were holding onto her skirt for dear life, trying to keep everything beneath the surface. She was angry but Yukari wasn’t the type to show it. Instead she keeps her smile before taking a breath and raising her hand to speak.

“I think you are purposefully trying to overcomplicate things. If you’ll allow me, may I propose an idea?"

She doesn’t wait for a response.

"The person who set the trap is experienced in such convoluted set. They either understand how a live stunt scene works or how traps work. I’ve seen sets but I’ve never operated one. I’m not an action star or some type of comedian that relies on cheap slapstick, physical humor, so my knowledge on such traps is very limited."

Yukari sets her hand down on the table.

"So let’s just go with what we do know about the killer. They would have to be strong enough to successfully cut an alive Emil’s head off as well as set the stage. After all, the box that crushed Emil looks incredibly heavy. In addition to their strength, the killer has enough precision to take out multiple cameras with just one pool ball. That takes aim and a well practiced hand, wouldn’t you say?”

Her attention turns back to Bonbon and someone else just briefly before she’s addressing the group as a whole.

“I am beginning to doubt that there was an accomplice. Only because then the accomplice would have been the one to find the body. Judging but Alfie’s reaction, could we say that he was the one who participated in Emil’s demise? Granted he could be lying. Any one of us could be… But I will choose to believe him.” Just for now. Just this once.

She has to pause to think carefully.

“Emil’s death was only thirty-five minutes before their discovery. In those thirty-five minutes, the killer would have had to drain the blood from his head, set the head on the cake, and then disposed of their clothes along with their very shi— shoddy attempt to frame someone. They had to have been wearing the clothes found but… Did they need to wear the wig as well? Could it not just be enough that the clothes they were wearing were just what they had on? They could have just cut the wig and thrown its fibers in. After all, the strands did not get destroyed alongside the clothes and were fairly easy to reach and test… If the clothes were part of a disguise, why bother destroying them?”

This is… upsetting. Not for the usual reason but also because she couldn’t flat out call a killer. Not while there were multiple possibilities…

“I can say with great certainty that both Fergus and Jun'ya would not implicate themselves in something like this… Alfie is cleared through his being the discoverer. I clearly could not have set up something like this given my lack of physical strength. I would argue that Giselle and Yuzuki share in that weakness. Sunako is too softhearted to kill in a gruesome way such as this. Same with Castella. Haruki and Manqian would have somehow messed up their own plans and don’t possess the nerve required to do something to this scale."

Which only left them with two possible names. If her own predictions were right. Yukari’s head is hurting but she can ignore that for now. She can ignore the cameras as well to focus on the task at hand. She’ll throw the audience a bone later but when she’s not trying to find out which person at the table will be condemned to death.

”Morgan. Bonbon. Or anyone else who wishes to speak for them. Why is it the other and not you?“

#submission #ch3 #trial #yukari

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tacobellabeanburrito · 1 year

Text

Really scared right now. So I ended up being with my Show Choir on Thursday for after school rehearsals, and that Thursday was also the day that Show Choir auditions were and so that means that a lot of the middle schoolers came to our school to come and audition. And of course, everyone was scared to go and introduce themselves and I said “Fuck it, I’ll go over there and introduce myself if y’all are too scared. I’ll go over there first” and I went over there and it seems like they ended up really liking me. And of course, as usual. I try to get on their good side and seem like a funny, cool person to be around, I mean, what else can a Junior do around middle schoolers? So I start talking and shit and as we’re talking about different things and I blurt out “I bet Jesus smoked weed” OUTLOUD. Everyone starts laughing, at this point? Idk where our teacher is but I keep talking about it, or talking about kind of inappropriate stuff and my friends like “Ok guys, I dunno how this is really showing the middle schoolers how mature we are” and I’m like “Girl what?” I don’t think our teacher said that we had to be mature but whatever, cause I kinda look at her like “Am I taking this too far?” And she doesn’t say anything but look at me and I’m like “Gworl” and anyway, I start talking about other shit I guess and a few minutes later my friend ends up talking to someone behind me and I find my choir teacher ride behind me and now I’m scared she heard my Jesus weed talk that was me trying to be hip and trendy with the kids and that’s why my friend said that. Idk, I hope it doesn’t ruin my chances of getting into Show Choir next year. I don’t think it will because I have seniority and I’m pretty good at singing and dancing but idk. In other news, one of the 8th graders that came to our school had the same name as me! Totally gonna take her under my wing if she gets in. I hope she does. In my community theatre there were two other older Raina’s who took me under their wing and NOW I GET TO DO IT TO HER!! AHHHH ANOTHER RAINA!!

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johnhardinsawyer · 2 years

Text

Loving God by Loving Others

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

10 / 23 / 22

Matthew 9:35-10:1

Matthew 14:13-21

1 John 4:7-12

“Loving God by Loving Others”

(Sacred Pathways[1] – Week 6)

Earle Tryder. There are some of you who will hear that name and your hearts will swell up with love. To know him was to love him. Earle Tryder loved and served God for many years right here at Bedford Presbyterian Church. You would, most Sundays, find him singing bass in the choir or – if the choir wasn’t singing that day – you would find him sitting close to the back, on the parking lot side. When I first came to BPC – almost nine years ago – I don’t remember meeting Earle at church, though I very well may have. I do, however, remember meeting Earle as he sat with his wife, Ella, at the nursing home where she lived. Earle and Ella were quite a couple back in the day. But, in Ella’s later years, it became harder and harder for her to remember things – people’s names, places she’d been, and eventually, how to speak. It became hard to care for Ella at home, and so, she moved to a place where Earle could go visit her every day. When it was my time to meet Ella, I went with Pastor Karen Hagy and, as we walked into the room, there Earle sat across from Ella. And when Karen said, “Ella, it’s so good to see you today.” Ella did not give much of a response, but Earle said, “Doesn’t she look beautiful today?” She did look beautiful.

It takes a special kind of love to care for someone the way Earle cared for Ella. Earle was a humble kind of guy and he would likely shake his head if I said that his love for Ella was unique or special. “Oh, I get more out of caring for her than she does out of me being here,” he might say. Perhaps this was true.

As we have been exploring over the past six Sundays, there are all kinds of sacred pathways that help us connect with God – or, rather, pathways upon which God connects with us. One of these pathways is found in the ways we offer love and care for one another. There is something powerful that happens to us and through us when we care for another person and when we allow ourselves to be cared for, in return. Earle felt this deeply. So did Ella. But they are not the only ones to feel so deeply. This deep feeling is the giving and receiving of compassion.

In today’s readings from the Gospel of Matthew, we see Jesus feeling the same way. In Chapter 14, we read: “When [Jesus] went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick.” (Matthew 14:14) And, in Chapter 9, we read: “When [Jesus] saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” (9:36) In the original language, the word “compassion” literally means that Jesus is moved “in his inward parts, his entrails”[2] . . . his guts. In the time of Jesus, the heart was considered to be the seat of human emotion and the heart was – and is – part of our inward parts. Think about it – if you are moved with compassion – there might just be some physical feeling that you feel in your body – your heart might break a little or melt a little, your stomach might turn, you might be filled with a surge of adrenaline or a sense that something must be done. It’s emotional, but it’s also physical – visceral.

As the text tells us, Jesus sees these people who have followed him out to a deserted place. They are sick, and tired, and hungry. They are “harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” (9:36) In the original language, the people are “wearied and troubled,”[3] “abandoned and desolate.”[4] Seeing these people, Jesus is moved – in his gut and his heart – to do something. And so he does.

Jesus starts to heal those who need healing and he feeds those who need feeding. How can he not do this? His compassion compels him. Now, this compassion – and all that comes from it – is miraculous, in that Jesus does things that nobody else can do. It is abundant, in that there is food left over . . . enough grace to share and sustain, later. And the people see, and hear, and feel, and know God’s goodness and care and love in the moment because it is Jesus doing all of it.

But then Jesus does a curious thing. Eugene Peterson translates it in this way: “Jesus called twelve of his followers and sent them out into the ripe fields. He gave them power to kick out the evil spirits and to tenderly care for the bruised and hurt lives.”[5] Jesus calls twelve of his disciples – Simon, also known as Peter, and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee, and his brother John; Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; Simon the Cananaean, and Judas Iscariot – and Jesus gives them power (authority) over unclean spirits and to cure every disease and sickness.[6]

The thing that is so curious about this is that Jesus’ divine power is given to these twelve human beings – real people with real names and families and occupations and homes. These were people not unlike you and me. Jesus gives them – gives us – both the power to care and the authority to use this power for good. Just to reiterate – Jesus sees hungry people and he feeds them. He sees sick people and he heals them. He sees people who are cast aside and lost and he goes out and finds them and brings them together and offers his welcome and embrace. And then he gives us power and authority to love and care – to feed, and heal, and welcome others just like he did.

Does our care look and feel exactly like Jesus’? Can we give thanks over a couple of loaves and fishes and whip up a feast for thousands? Can we lay our hands on someone and heal their disease, instantly? Well . . . maybe not just like Jesus. I will freely admit that the kind of care Jesus offers might not look exactly the same as the care that we can offer, but the ways Jesus feeds and heals others will often go beyond the physical to the spiritual. Sometimes we won’t see the ways that others are nourished and healed by God – or by us – on this side of glory. In the end, what matters most, is God’s love at work through us . . . God’s compassion at work through us . . . and remembering that it is God who initiates this work within us, and not we, ourselves. Any love and compassion that we offer to another person, in humility and hope, comes from the Holy Spirit and has the fingerprints of Jesus all over it.

A few years ago, a member of our congregation – George Reese – wondered why we kept delivering more and more Thanksgiving Baskets to residents of Bedford. It was assumed by many that Bedford was an affluent place with no food insecurity at all, and yet George was seeing evidence of hungry people here. “If there are hungry people, we need to feed them,” George said. And so he got some people together and the Bedford Community Food Pantry was born. The practicalities of doing such a thing were a little complicated, but the compassionate drive at the heart of such an effort was uncomplicated.

Last year, about this time, several members of our church got a message saying that a family was on its way from Afghanistan. The scenes of the chaotic mass exodus of refugees from that country were heartbreaking and people felt compelled by compassion to do something. Within a couple of days, an empty apartment was furnished, an empty kitchen was fully stocked, toys were even purchased for the two children who were on the way. And, just like that, the Safis were welcomed to New Hampshire. They needed a home, so our church’s Neighborhood Support Team made one for them. There have been some complications over the past year – complications with language, and healthcare, and social services, and finding jobs for non-English speakers – but the Safis are part of our family now and we are part of their family.

I do want to offer a few words of caution here. Caregiving can be so rewarding, but it can be exhausting work – it can deplete us of our compassionate reserves, our spiritual reserves. Talk to anyone who is caring for an aging parent, or someone with cancer, or a sick child and they will tell you that they are doing this out love and duty, but they will also likely tell you how tired they are. Sometimes, they don’t even know how tired they are. And so, caregivers need care – some self-care, and sabbath, and care from those of us who might have some care reserves left. We live in an age of compassion-fatigue. I admit, there are days when I’m about one hurricane, or one mass shooting, or one family crisis away from throwing my hands up in the air and saying, “I just can’t care, anymore.” It just isn’t spiritually and emotionally possible. There is only so much that you and I, personally, can offer. Remember, even if we are juggling multiple crises in your family and in the world that all demand your attention and compassion, you cannot save the world, singlehandedly. Besides, when it comes to saving the world, Jesus has already done this. And Jesus’ compassion never runs out, even if ours might from time to time.

One other word of caution . . . We do have this gift and mission of compassion from Jesus, but I think that we human beings, especially people in the church, can get a little bogged down in the practicalities of how to use this gift. It is so good to have a plan and some kind of structure around how we are seeking to be compassionate, but working through the nitty gritty details of how to actually help people can be the shield we hide behind to keep us from doing much of anything. Some of us really like forming committees and task forces to study a complex problem to death. But, in the end, the compassion that God gives us is really anything but complicated. It all comes down to love – and the way God is at work in and through that love.

If I had asked Earle whether his love for Ella was complicated by her dementia, even though the practicalities of caring for someone with Ella’s illness was very complicated, he would likely say that the love part was not complicated at all. Earle loved Ella, so he cared for her. And she loved him, so she received that care. It was that simple. Oftentimes, it is that simple for us, too.

So, as the scriptures tell us, “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God . . . and since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; [but] if we love one another, God lives in us, and God’s love is perfected in us.” (1 John 4:7, 11-12)

May God’s love be seen and known in all that we say and do – especially in how we care for one another. May we be gentle with ourselves so that we may be gentle with others. And may God be at work – in our guts, on our hearts, and through our compassion in the world.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

----------

[1] Sermon series based on Gary Thomas, Sacred Pathways: Nine Ways to Connect with God (Grand Rapids: Zondervan Books, 2020).

[2] Walter Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979) 763.

[3] Bauer, 758

[4] Bauer, 309.

[5] Eugene Peterson, The Message: Numbered Edition (Colorado Springs: NAV Press, 2002) 1343. Matthew 10:1.

[6] See Matthew 10:1-4. Paraphrased, JHS.

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

The Wrong Idea (part 2) | Lee Bodecker x Reader

(read part 1 here)

summary: your relationship with your stepfather only becomes more tense, and both of you know you can’t avoid him forever.

word count: nearly 5.8k

warnings: smut (heavy dubcon/noncon, and a few consensual encounters), stepcest, pain kink, daddy kink, groping, semi-public sex, a bit of pregnancy/breeding kink (just through dialogue), stockholm syndrome/sympathy for the abuser, grooming (hence the thing before this one), a bit of violence including use of a gun, a bit of housewife kink?

Jimmy O’Doyle was sweet, and handsome; tall, and strong, and with this gorgeous blonde hair that he either styled relentlessly or just somehow dried perfect on its own. Sure, his nose was a little big, but you found it endearing, especially when his smile was even bigger.

Most of the girls in Knockemstiff had a crush on Jimmy— maybe it was his looks, maybe it was the fact that he drove one of the nicer cars in town— but he was either oblivious or uninterested. He seemed to keep to himself most of the time, though he'd always be polite and carry conversation if you approached him.

Well, not you. You never approached him. It made you a little too nervous.

Therefore, you had no plan when he approached you after church one Sunday. You didn't even realize he knew your name, until he used it to get your attention with a tap on your shoulder.

"Oh, hey Jimmy," you mumbled back, looking up at him and chewing your lip.

"I like your dress," he informed you with a tilted smile. You looked down at it— yellow, with a white gingham on the skirt— and felt your face getting a little warm.

"Oh, this? Thanks, um, it was a gift from— from my stepdad."

"Oh, was it your birthday?"

You shook your head. "Not for a few more months, he just bought me something to be nice."

Jimmy nodded, and there was an uncomfortable silence before you suddenly blurted out: "I like your tie!"

"Thanks!” he beamed. “I got it when I went to—”

"Time to go, sweetie," your mother interrupted to inform you, motioning to the parking lot where Sheriff Bodecker was opening the driver's side door of his patrol car. (Yes, he drove the three of you to church in the fucking patrol car.)

"Just a minute, mama," you smiled back. “What were you gonna say?” you asked Jimmy.

“Uh, I was just gonna ask you somethin’...”

“Well, what is it?”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking away for a moment. “Just if maybe you wanted to, uh, go for a drive sometime or somethin’...”

“A drive? Yeah, sure,” you smiled, feeling a giddy nervousness bloom in your stomach. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah, me too,” he nodded. “I’ll pick you up tonight? At 7?”

You pictured Jimmy appearing at the door with your mother and Lee sitting in the living room. “Um, no, I’ll meet you somewhere. At the corner of Bailey and Hillside?”

“All right,” he smiled.

“I’ll be the one in a yellow dress,” you winked.

“I’ll be the one in the blue Cadillac,” he grinned.

Your mother called to you again and you waved goodbye to Jimmy, feeling your cheeks warm as he waved back.

“What was that all about?” she asked as you got into the back seat.

“Oh, he was just asking if I’d wanna join the choir,” you lied quickly.

“Well I hope you said no! I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself,” she smiled.

“Of course, mama,” you nodded, shooting Lee a glance that said ‘do you see how she is?’

He looked back just for a second before starting the car, and you knew he understood better than most.

You had a plan to tell your mother and stepfather that you were going to meet some friends for dinner, but they never even asked where you were going. Certainly made it easier to slip out and begin your walk to the corner where you planned to meet your date.

You had your yellow dress on like you said you would, but you didn't wear the white cardigan that you had on over it at church that morning. It was a warm night anyhow, but you hoped it would be a little more mature without it. Not revealing or anything, but a little more daring.

Hopping into Jimmy’s passenger seat made you feel like the most special girl in the world, though you knew it wasn’t actually that big of a deal. You let yourself get excited anyway.

The conversation was pleasant, if nerve-wracking. At first, you kind of hoped some other girls in town would see you in his car and get jealous, but as you two got to talking and you appreciated the scenic drive, it wasn’t so important to you anymore. Jimmy asked where you wanted to go. You just told him to go anywhere. You weren’t exactly offended when he decided to take you to the closest thing Knockemstiff had to a ‘makeout point’: it was just a nice park that had a lot of open space and a cute little creek down the middle. Knowing what this implied, you felt your face warm up slightly.

“Is it okay if we just sit in here and talk for a bit?” Jimmy asked gently. “I rather like getting to know you.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you nodded, “I like talking to you, too.”

It went on like that for a while, talking about all sorts of things that were mostly unimportant. Jimmy went on a bit of a ramble about baseball, which you normally found terminally boring; it was interesting when he talked about it with so much passion, though. And he returned the favor by listening to you talk about politics which was probably just as boring to him.

“I’ve never known a girl who knew so much about the world,” he said, seeming impressed.

“I don’t think I know that much,” you shook your head, “I just listen to the radio.”

“I listen to the radio, too, but it must not be the same station as you,” he laughed.

An awkward, but not necessarily uncomfortable, silence fell over the car. You wanted to make a move, but you didn’t know how.

“Maybe we could turn on the radio now,” you suggested.

“All right,” he jumped up, leaning forward and turning his car radio on.

And dear, I wonder if you find love an optical illusion, too?

“Oh, I love this song,” you admitted. “I don’t have a record player, but I think if I did I’d only have Billie Holiday records.”

“You should come over sometime, I have a lot of records,” Jimmy offered.

“Does that mean we’ll have a second date?” you asked hopefully.

“Does that mean we’re having a first date, right now?” he returned.

“I was sort of hoping so,” you smiled nervously.

“So was I,” he agreed.

Are the stars out tonight? I don’t know if it’s cloudy or bright…

Your mind wandered as you feared that somehow, Jimmy would see right through you— see who you really were. And if he did that, he’d never want you. You knew that. You figured Sheriff Bodecker would go out of his way to make sure you knew that, if he ever found out this was going on. But he wasn’t going to find out, you decided, because he had no way of knowing and you were grown anyhow.

‘cause I only have eyes for you…

When you snapped out of your thoughts, you realized Jimmy was leaning in towards you; and though you felt oddly guilty for no good reason at all, you closed the gap and kissed him.

It was gentle and sweet, nothing like the kisses you were used to. Some materialistic, status-conscious part of you (probably the part that was related to your mother) was over the moon to be kissing the most popular young man in the whole town. Most of you, though, was just happy to be kissing a boy that you liked, and that liked you back.

And secretly, a very teeny tiny part of you was thinking of someone else.

“You are so beautiful,” Jimmy whispered into the kiss.

“Really? You think so?” you whispered back, smiling.

“Everybody does,” he answered as if it were obvious.

You kissed him deeper, the smallest moan slipping out as his hands moved over your waist. You gasped a bit when his hands moved to grab your breasts.

“Is this okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded and kissed him again, whimpering softly as his hands massaged you through your dress.

Arousal was starting to awaken between your legs, and you felt your hips pushing down against the seat a little harder, seeking stimulation. Gingerly, your hand started to slide up his leg, and you both gasped when you felt his erection underneath the corduroy.

He quickly took his hands off you to open up his trousers, pulling his cock out and sighing a bit when your hand wrapped around it.

You could tell it wasn’t as big as the Sheriff’s— not as long or as thick— but it still felt good in your hand, and Jimmy still looked beautiful with that look of pleasure and shock on his face.

“Damn, you’re…” Jimmy moaned, almost in disbelief, as you started to stroke him. “You’re incredible.”

“Touch me again,” you pleaded gently, biting your lip when he reached up to pull the top of your dress down a bit— just enough to expose your tits and grab them again.

You got lost in the moment, with how good his hands felt on you, and how nice it was to kiss him, and how much you wanted him to come all over your hand. So lost, in fact, that neither of you noticed a car had pulled up behind his until there was a tap at your window.

It was the Sheriff, shining a flashlight into the car.

“Shit!” Jimmy gasped, shoving you away and tucking himself back into his trousers while you pulled up your dress to cover yourself and turned off the radio. Your stomach sank and you thought you could probably vomit right then and there.

“Roll down the window, please,” Lee requested, and you awkwardly cranked the handle until it was halfway down.

“I’m sorry, Sheriff, it was—” Jimmy began to explain.

“What do you want?” you interrupted, glaring at Lee.

“Just wanna make sure you’re both alright,” he answered sternly. “It’s gettin’ pretty late.”

“It’s not even ten,” you announced with crossed arms, “and you aren’t supposed to be workin’ tonight.”

Jimmy stared at you with wide eyes, somewhere between impressed and terrified that you were standing up to the Sheriff.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to step out of the vehicle, ma’am,” Lee snarled. You sighed and rolled up the window again; Lee stepped out of the way so you could open your door as you got out. “You, stay in the car,” he instructed Jimmy, who nodded fearfully.

The second you shut the door, Lee was pressing you back into the side of the car and staring you down. You were terrified of him, actually, but you refused to show it.

You whispered to him harshly, hoping Jimmy wouldn’t hear your exchange. “Go. Away.”

Lee chuckled, in an angry sort of way. “Givin’ some schoolboy a tug in his car, huh? In the dress I bought you? Thought you were better than that.”

“It’s none of your business,” you asserted.

“Everything that happens in this town is my business,” he replied, “and everything that happens to you is my problem.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t a jealous creep who followed me around,” you hissed.

Jimmy stepped out of the car, and both of you turned to look back at him.

“Everything alright?” he asked, and you weren’t sure if he was asking you or Lee.

“Can’t say that it is,” the Sheriff shook his head. “Way I see it, this is public indecency for the both of you.”

“Sir, we didn’t mean to—”

“I’ll let you off with a warning,” Lee told Jimmy with a disappointed frown.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled.

“Not you,” he turned back to you with a sigh. “I'm afraid I'll have to detain you. Can't give you special treatment just cause you're family.”

“What?!” you squawked.

“You heard me, girl. Hands behind your back."

“You can’t be serious,” Jimmy protested.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay in your vehicle?” Lee remembered angrily, and Jimmy hesitated but obeyed.

As he cuffed your wrists, his hand drifted downward, cupping your ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

"Lee, don't…" you pleaded softly, "not here."

"Not here?” he whispered against your ear, making you shiver. “Then where, princess? You're never at home anymore. When am I s'posed to make my girl feel good, huh? When are you gonna take care of me?"

"You can take care of yourself," you grimaced.

"Oh, I do. After your ma falls asleep," he chuckled. "I get my cock off all by myself, thinking about you and your tight fuckin' hole."

You whimpered as he started to gather your skirt, rubbing his hands on your legs underneath.

"And what's this with you calling me Lee? You know it's Sheriff in public, and Daddy at home."

“I’m sorry, Sheriff, I was just—”

“Come on, let’s get you to the car,” Lee grumbled as he roughly guided you to his patrol car, all but tossing you into the back.

“Where are you gonna take her?” Jimmy asked as he leaned out of his window, not seeming to have noticed the way Lee was touching you but still obviously uncomfortable.

“Home,” was all Lee replied as he got in the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut.

Of course, as he started to drive, you realized that was a lie. He drove down winding roads in tense silence, until he pulled into a clearing in the woods and turned off the engine.

“You fucked up real big tonight,” he informed you as he turned back to look at you through the caged partition.

You just looked at your skirt, that damned yellow and white gingham that had gotten you into this mess.

“Get out, get in front of the car, and bend over the hood.”

He leaned back to open the door for you from the inside, and you shivered from the sudden blast of cool night air. Lee watched you through the windshield with a dark glare as you walked around the car and laid yourself down over the hood. The metal was cold; cold enough to seep through your clothes and make you shiver. The whole world looked sideways when you saw it from this angle, but truthfully, your whole world felt completely upside down. You just waited like that for a moment— and it was the best he’d ever done to make you feel worthless, having you wait patiently for him to do what he was about to do to you.

Eventually, he stepped out with a gruff instruction not to move. When his form was no longer visible in your peripheral vision, you felt him pressed up against the back of your legs as your skirt started to slide up.

“I try to be nice to ya,” he grunted, “treat you right, buy you things. And what does it get me, huh?”

You didn’t say anything, because you were sure anything you would say would just make it worse. With your skirt flipped up completely now, you could feel the cold autumn breeze on your legs as he pulled your panties to the side.

“I’m startin’ to think that kindness doesn’t go very far with you. You like it best when I’m mean, dontcha?”

His belt made that terrible clinking sound as he opened it, and you felt his cock rubbing through your folds.

“Normally I would get you wetter first, but I think this’ll just have to do tonight.”

He pushed forward and it fucking burned. You cried out, breathing through your teeth as you tried to bear the pain. Behind your back, your nails dug into your palm.

He didn’t slow down at all, though, and fucked you faster and harder in spite of the sting. Determined to get a reaction, he slapped your ass, too.

“Daddy!” you sobbed. “It hurts!”

“You could’ve avoided it,” he yelled angrily. “It didn’t have to be like this, but you wanted to act like a fuckin’ whore, and now you’re gettin’ treated like one.”

“I’m sorry!” you cried, wet tears warming the cold metal of the car beneath you. “I’m so sorry, daddy!”

Lee grabbed your hips tighter, surely enough to bruise. Disturbingly, you felt yourself getting more aroused— it made it less painful physically, but so much more painful mentally.

“Told ya you like it rough,” he laughed. “You’re already clenchin’ on me, I can tell you’re gonna come.”

You tried to shake your head, but he was right. He reached up and pulled your hair roughly, making you yelp. Even that made a pleasant tingle run down your spine, despite the fact that it hurt so much.

“You’re so fuckin’ close, princess,” he groaned, leaning down and watching your face closely, “you’re gonna come for your daddy, right fuckin’ now.”

You heard a twig snap before you knew what it was. "What the fuck?!" another voice called out.

It was Jimmy, standing off just a few feet away in disbelief. You closed your eyes, unable and unwilling to look at him in this moment. Lee just sighed as he slipped out of you, stuffing his cock back into the pants of his uniform and zipping back up. "You didn't see anything, kid."

"You… you're…” Jimmy stammered, “that's your stepdaughter! The hell is wrong with you?"

"I said," Lee growled as he crossed the distance between him and Jimmy, pulling his gun from its holster and holding it under the boy’s neck, "ya didn't see nothin'."

"Don't hurt him, Lee, please!" you sobbed.

"Hey!" Lee yelped, turning back to look at you. "You, shut up!"

"Don't talk to her like that!" Jimmy protested. Lee responded with a swift backhanded slap, hitting Jimmy with his gun in the process.

"You'd better learn how to respect authority, son, and real damn soon before somebody hands your ass to ya. I'm not doin' nothing wrong with her, I'll have you know. She's of age, and I'm not forcin' her to do it. She likes it,” Lee bragged, “begs me for it, day and night. Frankly, I can barely keep up with her. Now, get on and mind your business, and this won't be any trouble for you."

Jimmy hesitated a little, glancing over at you for a moment. “You’re a sick bastard, Sheriff,” he sighed as he shook his head.

Lee just grinned, almost like he was proud of the title. "Tell me somethin', Timmy—"

"It's Jimmy."

"Yeah, whatever— you kissed her, didn’t ya?"

"Yes."

Lee laughed, grabbing the boy on the shoulder as if they were old chums or something. "Oh, kid, if only you knew where that mouth had been."

Jimmy looked disgusted as he glanced at you and then to the ground, before turning away to storm off into the woods. Lee seemed so proud of himself as he walked back to you, pushing you down since you’d started to lean up off the car.

"Now, where were we?" he purred.

"I hate you," you sobbed, "I hate you!"

"Oh yeah, that's right— you were about to come all over my fuckin’ cock."

He quickly got himself back out and shoved into you again, hard and brutal thrusts slamming your hips forward painfully.

"I'd better not catch you with another stupid fuckin’ boy," he growled. "You don't know how mean I can be, little girl. You don't know everything I could do to them… you don't know everything I could do to you."

You tried your best to apologise again but the strength of your sobs made you nearly unintelligible. Worse, you were so close to coming that you were starting to see stars.

"You're mine now, ya hear?" he moaned against your ear. "Nobody else in this town is gonna touch you, or they'll have to answer to me. Don't even want 'em lookin' atcha."

Your orgasm made your legs feel like jelly, your whole body going limp as all the energy to fight left you. He kept fucking you strong and fast, overstimulating the most sensitive places inside you. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your thoughts became fuzzy and distant, and all you could feel was overwhelming pleasure buzzing under your skin.

"Yours," you moaned weakly, "just yours, daddy…"

"Fuck, gonna come," he warned you, "gonna fill you up, sweetheart."

You nodded, the danger of that prospect feeling distant and abstract, while the best parts of it felt so close and tangible. He groaned as he pumped his load into you, thick and hot and warming you from the inside out. When he finally slowed to a stop and pulled out, you could feel a gush of it leak out of your opening and run down your thigh.

Silently, he uncuffed your wrists and helped you up off the car, sliding into the backseat with you with a quiet shut of the door behind him. Something about the overwhelming sensations of it all, and the way it went from so loud to so quiet in just a moment, and his sudden switch from cruel to gentle, made your eyes water until you couldn't help but bawl. You threw yourself into his arms and sobbed, clutching at his chest.

"I'm so sorry, daddy," you whimpered, "I didn't mean to do anything wrong…"

"Shh, it's okay, sweet girl," he cooed as he stroked your back soothingly. "You know I only get upset like that cause I want the best for you."

"I know," you sighed, "I just wanted to be normal, you know? Have a boyfriend like the other girls do, somebody I could marry someday."

"I get it," he nodded, "I don't blame you. I wish we could leave this place, and start over where nobody knows where we are. But you know I couldn't leave Knockemstiff… not when I'm about to win this election."

"If you can win here, maybe you can win somewhere else," you suggested.

He turned to look at you, a look of pleasant surprise on his face. "You sayin you wanna run away with me, princess?"

"Umm…" you stalled.

"I know you wanna get away from your ma. Hell, so do I. You understand why I needed a wife though— people trust men with wives more," he explained matter-of-factly, "and not wives that are more than 20 years younger than them."

"So it was all a way to get reelected?"

"I was lonely too. Marriage didn't fix that though. You did."

You looked up at him and couldn't believe the way you felt when you did. Sometimes you hated him even more than you did before he married your mother, but at times like this, you loved him in a way you'd never loved anybody before. You wondered if maybe hating somebody like that sometimes was just the way love worked.

"Come on, sweet girl, let's go home," he suggested softly, kissing you on the forehead.

You nodded as he got out of the back and returned to the driver’s seat, starting the car. Laying down, you watched the tops of the trees through the window— though it was quite dark out and there wasn’t a lot to see— and felt your eyelids get heavy. Drifting to sleep, you dreamt in vivid colors of abstract things that you could never explain with words if you tried; though you couldn’t have known it, Lee watched you sleep in the rearview mirror, and did some dreaming of his own.

Midnight snacks; the least of your many bad habits.

You emerged from your room in your summer nightgown— which meant it was as thin as it needed to be for the heat outside— and stepped carefully over the floorboards you knew to creak the loudest as you made your clandestine trek to the mint-colored refrigerator.

As you moved through the living room to get to your destination, you jumped when a figure shifted in the darkness. Realizing it was Lee, you relaxed (mostly).

"You scared me," you giggled. "What are you doing on the couch?"

He groaned as he sat up, rubbing his head and looking a little exhausted. "Uh, nothing… what are you doing up?”

“Just getting a snack,” you admitted, “hope you don’t mind.”

“Don’t stop on my account. I was thinkin’ of a beer anyways,” he shrugged, following you to the fridge as you opened it. His shirtlessness was a little distracting as he stood behind you, looking over your shoulder and reaching around to grab the glass bottle. Settling on a leftover slice of cake wrapped in saran, you set your bounty on the counter while Lee opened and took a sip of his drink.

“Is it good?” he asked you once you’d acquired a fork and scooped a bite of the sweet, sugary dessert into your mouth.

You nodded, smiling but trying to keep your lips together to avoid spitting the food out. It was a few days old but somehow it tasted better than it had when it was fresh— maybe it was that it was cold on a hot night, or maybe it was that you’d had to navigate a nauseatingly-boring baby shower in order to get some the first time. Your mother insisted on dragging you along to all kinds of ridiculous community events like that.

Your next bite was more ambitious, because you weren’t exactly worried about eating in a ladylike manner when it was past midnight and you were eating cake in your pyjamas.

“You got some frostin’ on your nose,” Lee informed you— but before you could wipe it off, he took his finger and swiped it right on the tip of your nose. You felt yourself blush a bit as he licked the blue cream off of his finger. “It’s sweet,” he announced, “but maybe that’s just you.”

As warmth bloomed in your chest from his kindness (even if it was cheesy), you felt a little bolder to press him about what was actually going on.

“Why were you really on the couch?” you asked softly.

He paused for a second, taking a long, slow sip of beer as he thought, but finally answered. “I got kicked out of the bed. Your ma… well, she doesn't handle rejection very well it seems."

"Rejection…?" you encouraged, feeling a bit nervous suddenly.

"I wouldn't sleep with her,” he clarified. “And now I'm sleepin’… here."

You swallowed, even though you weren’t eating at that exact moment. "Why… why wouldn't you sleep with her?"

He smirked a little. "Sweetheart, once you've had a taste of rare meat, you never go back to well done."

The comparison to meat was demeaning, even if you came out on the flattering end of the metaphor. Still, you took pity on him as you saw how uncomfortable the couch looked.

"You could sleep in my bed, you know,” you offered awkwardly. “I mean, it's not as big as yours but… it's definitely bigger than the couch…"

He smiled at you in a way that made you wonder if you'd made a mistake. "You're too sweet, darlin'. Even for your own good."

The rest of your cake and his beer was forgotten as you walked with each other to your bedroom, now both of you avoiding the creakiest boards. You couldn’t ignore the way he shut the door behind you as quietly as possible— another reminder that, though neither of you were saying it, that this was the sort of thing you didn’t want to be overheard. The secrecy of it all made your spine tingle, and you liked it. Who knew a good girl like you would learn to love breaking the rules so much?

It wasn't as strange as you'd expected to have him in your bed. A little cramped, maybe, but also oddly nice. He cuddled up to you, and you felt small but safe in his arms. When his lips pressed against the back of your neck, you whimpered softly; and when his fingers started to trail down between your legs, you moaned a bit louder.

"Gotta be quiet, pretty girl, don't want anybody else in the house hearin' ya…"

You'd never known how good it could feel to be touched until Lee touched you. His fingers found every delicate spot and slowly took you apart until it became near impossible to stay quiet. So quickly after invading your body, he invaded your mind as well, and now he was all you could think about. Not just in moments like this, disturbingly, but damn-near all the time. It wasn’t that you forgot everything you hated about him, but more that you forgot how to feel the hate and instead could only logically try to convince yourself to hate him still. Logic was long gone, though, as he kissed your shoulder and pushed two thick fingers into you.

"You're so wet, honey, you're gonna spoil me," he purred softly against your ear. "Want me to love ya good, sweet girl?"

You nodded quickly, smiling wide.

He smiled back as rolled you onto your back and slipped between your legs, pushing his pyjama pants down. You preened when you felt his cock start to slide over your pussy. When he suddenly pushed in, you gasped and arched your back.

"Shh," he soothed, "it's okay, baby, you can take it. You're so good, princess, my good girl…"

You whimpered but kept mostly quiet as he thrusted deeper, nearly all the way in. Was he always going to be this much of a challenge to take?

"Keep those legs open real wide, honey, show me how bad you want it," he purred.

Your head craned up to watch his cock disappearing inside you, only to fall back again as he pulled back and pushed in, over and over, fucking you slow but deep.

"Daddy," you whimpered softly, "feels so good, please don't stop…"

He kissed you, cradling your face in his hands. "Not gonna stop, princess, 'm right here, not gonna letcha go…"

You clutched at his shoulders, feeling so full that it almost hurt but you loved it, god you loved it more than you could’ve ever believed. You loved the feeling of him inside you, like you were made for each other. You loved his little breaths and moans, and knowing it was because of you that he felt good. You loved it, even, when he went a bit too deep and your arms shot up to push him back, only for him to grab your wrists and hold your hands above your head.

"My girl," he whispered into your ear, "my girl, my girl, my girl."

And shockingly enough, you loved being his girl.

"I love you, daddy," you sighed, so quiet that you were afraid he wouldn't hear you. But he did.

"Say it again," he requested.

"I love you," you repeated, "I love you so much, daddy."

"I love you too, princess," he answered with a smile, "more than you can imagine."

He kissed you as his thrusts gained some speed, your walls already fluttering each time he pushed all the way in. You knew he felt it because you could tell that he was still smiling into the kisses he placed on your neck and shoulders. You knew he was close, too, because it was his cock beginning to swell and flex within you that pushed you over the edge. He helped you stay quiet by wrapping his hand around your neck and tightening until you started to see stars. It made everything stronger, so much so that it quickly became overwhelming as tears quickly began to pour down the sides of your face.

He was quick to comfort you though, relaxing his grip and wiping the tears away with reverently-whispered praises.

“Don’t pull out yet, daddy,” you requested softly, wrapping your legs around his hips when you felt that he was trying to pull back. “I like feeling you inside me…”

He kissed you again, gripping your thigh tight, and stayed that way until you finally agreed that he could go— and who were you to say how long you made him wait? It felt too good to let him go so soon, even if he was exhausted. As soon as you nodded, though, he was slipping out and sighing.

"Fuck it, I'm not gonna wait any longer," he groaned as he laid back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling, "I wanna make you mine for good."

You laid your head on his shoulder, looking up at him and admiring the little details of his face that you could only see when you were this close. "I thought you said you'd never leave Knockemstiff."

"I don't think I have to. What's the point of bein' the Sheriff if I can't marry who I want?"

You bit your lip a little before replying to that. "You really wanna marry me?"

"Of course I do, princess,” he smiled proudly, looking back at you. “Might have to wait a while if I'm s'posed to save up for another one of them diamond rings…"

"I don't need one, long as I have you," you decided confidently.

"You're too good to me, sweetheart," he smirked, kissing your temple softly. "Can't wait to spoil you the way you deserve."

“How’s that?” you pressed, drawing abstract shapes onto his chest with your fingertip.

“A bigger bed than this,” he laughed. “A nice car— if you want your own, that is. You know I’d love to have you shotgun with me in the patrol car as much as I can.”

“You’d really get me a car?”

“Of course, after a little while. What kind would you want?”

“A red one. A real glossy red one.”

“Alright,” he smirked. “How about I getcha somethin’ else fancy— pearls, maybe? A girl like you deserves to wear pearls every day.”

“You think I’d look good in them?”

“Mm, especially if you weren’t in much else.”

“Okay, I could wear pearls if you bought them for me. Maybe I’ll be one of those wives who’s wearing pearls and heels when her husband gets home from work.”

“Fuck, talkin’ like that’ll get me hard again, princess,” he groaned. “Anythin’ else you want?”

“...I want a baby,” you admitted softly, embarrassed to even say it.

“I’ll put one in ya right now, sweetpea,” he purred. “Well, maybe not right now, I need a minute or two but… I could’ve already gotten you pregnant, you know. I’m no good at pullin’ out when it comes to you and that tight little pussy.”

“Is it strange if I sort of hope you did? Get me pregnant already, I mean.”

“Not at all,” he shook his head, “at least not to me. But I’m a little stranger than most.”

“Yes, that’s the impression I get,” you giggled.

“Maybe it’s strange that I think you’d look beautiful pregnant, all round and glowin’, with my baby in ya…” he trailed off, clearly imagining it.

“Maybe it’s strange that I think you’re the most handsome man in all of Ohio,” you winked, snuggling up closer to him.

“That is most certainly strange,” Lee laughed.

#lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #dark!lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x y/n #lee bodecker x you

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